


You Are The Moon

by karnilla_of_norn



Series: Centuries [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, BAMF Women, BAMFs, Consent Issues, Gen, Hunters Being Assholes, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, Murder, Teen Wolf w/hints of Vampire Diaries/Originals, Various Celebrity Characters Who Are Supernatural Creatures, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Heirarchy, Werewolf Hunters, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnilla_of_norn/pseuds/karnilla_of_norn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira Albrecht had no idea how much her life would change from just one, simple walk on the beach under a full moon. Now, she's an extremely wealthy and powerful werewolf shifter. Some people aren't too happy with her rise to prominence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Shadows all around you as you surface from the dark~_

October 8th, 2014

The sound of waves lapping against the sand was the only sound to be heard this early in the morning. The beach was deserted, the hour late, and even the crabs had shuffled into their holes for their sleep. A calm breeze blew over the dunes, rustling the tall grasses and making them sway, back-dropped by the silent and dark beach houses whose inhabitants rested in cliché themed bedrooms and beds not their own.

A young woman silently stepped over a half-demolished sandcastle, seemingly unconcerned about the silence and loneliness that seemed to permeate the area at such an hour. It was peaceful. The moon would be rising soon, and that was really the reason she was out of bed this late. This moon was special, because this year it was a Blood Moon, occurring just as there was a full lunar eclipse. There was no way she was missing this, even though it was barely 6 o'clock in the morning.

She'd dressed for the slightly chilly weather, with black cargo pants and a long-sleeved green and white striped t-shirt, but no shoes, and the sand was cool as it moved between her toes with each step. She had a hunting knife strapped to her belt that hung at her side, bumping lightly against her thigh as she walked. It always paid to be careful.

It was about 5 minutes to moonrise when she heard it. A slight whuffling noise, like a dog sniffing, and a shuffle here and there like something was navigating the dunes and tall grasses to her left. She ignored it, mostly; the Outer Banks didn't really have a wild dog problem, and the ones that were roaming about were used to humans, as this was a very popular tourist area. 'If I ignore it, it'll ignore me,' she thought.

The breath hitched in her throat as the tip of the fat, luminescent sphere started to inch it's way up above the waters of the Atlantic, casting a bright glow so contrary to the almost complete blackness of before. She watched with wonder in her eyes as it rose, so slowly, bathing the beach in light and rippling off of the ocean like shards of broken glass. It was only as the sun and moon hung above opposite horizons, the moon steadily turning more and more red as the eclipse commenced, that she registered the low growling coming from behind her. 

Her breath caught for a totally different reason, now- this was a feral sound, and it sent a shot of liquid fear down her spine. Her hand slowly inched towards her waist, to the hilt of her knife as she turned on her heel just as slowly. 'No sudden or threatening movements, no running, keep your breathing calm and even,' all of this ran through her head until she actually laid eyes on the beast. Two swirling pools of crimson rage were glaring back at her from between the tall grasses atop the dunes. Her common sense eventually overruled the primal fear those eyes seemed to evoke in her and she started to slowly inch away, back toward the way she came from.

Unfortunately, the beast didn't agree with her trying to leave and pounced out from it's hiding place straight towards her. Her eyes widened in fear and amazement, as the dune the animal had leaped from was over 30 feet away and it should've been an impossible feat. The creature knocked her backwards into the sand, its huge paws pushed into her chest, the claws digging into skin and surely leaving deep puncture wounds. That, however, was practically a tickle compared to the jaws that clamped around her shoulder, teeth viciously biting into her flesh, skin breaking and muscles tearing and blood pouring down, hot against her neck. Suddenly, the animal let go, only to immediately clamp down onto her side, cracking ribs as it roughly shook her like a ragdoll. She managed to get a look at the creature now that it wasn't so close to her, and her face twisted into a horrified expression.

It was gigantic, with bulging muscles and patches of wiry brown hair randomly placed over it's body. The parts of it that were hairless didn't look like skin, more like leather, and she thought it looked like it was maybe a deformed version of those Mexican hairless dogs. It smelled awful, like a sewer and rotting body mixed together, and it made her gag as she got a good whiff of it.

She wouldn't remember how later; the vicious attack temporarily shorting out her memory of the event, but she somehow managed to get her knife out of the sheath and thanked whatever deity was watching over her at this moment that the massive, hideously deformed dog-creature had bitten her on her left shoulder and therefore not her dominant arm. It still had a good grip on her side, and she was afraid it was going to start trying to eat her so she did the only thing she could think of- she stabbed it in the neck, right through the jugular and out the other side. She quickly pulled the blade back out, not wanting the animal to run off with her only form of protection as it let go of her and stumbled backwards, trying to roar or growl and only managing gurgling noises as dark blood dripped onto the pale sand beneath it.

She struggled upright, panting at the exertion and somehow managing through the pain and blood loss, and was completely dumbfounded when she noticed the creature hadn't died yet. She scrambled away from it as it staggered towards her, a vicious snarl curling around it's lips, but the most frightening thing about the vision in front of her wasn't the bloody fangs bared at her, or the gore dripping from her knife and it's neck to the sand. The most frightening thing about this animal was the feral intelligence shining in those crimson colored eyes. She was so terrified of that, that she nearly missed when it suddenly lunged at her. Luck was on her side this time as she rolled out of the way, crying out and trying to focus through the pain in her shoulder and side as the beast skidded in the sand, trying to find purchase on the shifting material beneath it's paws. She heaved herself up onto her feet, spinning out of the way again as it leaped at her.

Despite what should have been a fatal wound, the creature was still agile, and she realized the only way she'd be able to beat this thing was to catch it unaware. She glanced around the beach, her vision swimming slightly from the pain and blood loss, and noticed that someone- probably a child- had dug a deep hole in the sand not far away from them. She turned, running as fast as she could, hearing a low gurgling growl behind her that only spurred her on faster. She skidded to a sliding stop in the sand just before the hole, crying out in relief mingled with pain as the creature soared over her and down into the ditch. 

She wasn't stupid enough to think the hole was deep enough to keep even a toddler inside of it, but she was literally fighting for her life, so she did an incredibly idiotic thing- she leaped on the animal, her knife flying out and hitting home once again in its neck. It was so startled and disoriented by the pain and sudden fall into the hole that she was able to plunge the blade back into it's neck, twisting and jerking it to the side until the serrated edge cut through tissue and skin to imbed in the soft sand wall. She didn't waste any time as she grabbed it by the long, dirty fur on top of it's head and sawed away at what was left of it's neck, blood and fur sticking to her arms and face, dripping down onto her chest, until with a sudden slice of the blade the head disconnected from the rest of the body. 

The force of the sudden decapitation sent her sprawling back, the head being flung somewhere behind her as the now headless body slumped over, blood pooling and sinking into the sand as she pushed herself up and out of the hole to collapse onto the ground next to it. As she lay there, bleeding out onto the sand, she wondered how it was that there had been no early morning joggers out, or even people coming to observe the Blood Moon. She then noticed something that could only be a hallucination of her fevered mind- the head that'd been flung out of the hole now looked human, with a mop of dark brown hair with wide brown eyes and a mouth slack with death. She stared into the hallucination's eyes and thought she heard someone shouting and running towards her as she finally let the black fade in from the corners of her eyes and fell into blessed unconsciousness.

_Emerging from the gentle grip, of night's unfolding arms~_

Sometime Later~

She honestly couldn't tell you what happened next. She vaguely remembers brief flashes of lucidness, of someone carrying her somewhere, gentle whispers as a cloth wiped across open wounds, heated voices whisper-yelling across the room. She felt herself slowly start to come back to consciousness and she braced herself for pain that never came. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even, listening for any indication of someone being in the room with her as she awoke.

Instead, what she got was a bombardment of everything all at once- pots and pans clattering together as someone started to make bacon, the excited shouts of a couple of kids watching cartoons on the television, a woman asking someone to hand her the butter. She quickly sat up and immediately winced at the bright light of late morning streaming in through the windows, somehow seeming even more vivid than she remembered. She blinked several times, realizing that she didn't even need her glasses to see everything clearly- the individual stitches on the blanket she was covered with, the motes of dust swirling with the air-conditioning currents, and so much more that it felt like a veil had been lifted from her eyes. 'Something is seriously wrong with me,' she concluded, because she swore she could hear the heartbeats of the people upstairs.

Ever so slowly, she flipped back the blanket and turned to put her feet on the floor, needlessly cautious about her bandaged wounds because they didn't even twinge with discomfort. She decided to put that down to some seriously good pain meds and slowly stood up and walked to the stairs. There was a pause upstairs as she stepped onto the bottom step, but she continued up anyway, curious about who these people were because they definitely weren't her family that she'd come here on vacation with. 

The smells of breakfast and something else blended together, and it wasn't until she was stood on the top floor, looking into the kitchen and living rooms, that she realized that that something else was the people. She could clearly smell the differences in them, especially the difference between two of the kids and one of the adults. It set her on edge, her muscles tensing, especially the powerful smell of cinnamon and wood smoke that seemed to waft from the slight woman at the stove.

The woman was very beautiful, with short, curly dark brown hair and dark eyes. Her skin was tan with no blemishes, while her nose and lips were small. Despite everything about her seeming diminutive, she exuded a sense of dominance and restrained power.

Sitting at the very end of the island was a man, obviously the slight woman's husband. He was very attractive, also with dark hair cut stylishly to curl around his ears and just above his brow. He had a well groomed beard growing, trimmed to blend in with where his sideburns grew out. His dark colored eyes were piercing as they looked at her.

Sitting next to him was another man, younger than the two but obviously mature. He looked a great deal like the woman, with long brown wavy hair that was swept back from his face and dark brown eyes. He was handsome in a classical sense almost, with an aquiline nose and a carefully maintained mustache, chin strap, and soul patch. He had an intelligent air about him, his seriousness only offset by the mischievous look in his dark brown eyes as he glanced up from who could only be his wife. She was a stunning blonde, with a tall, willowy frame and kind gray blue eyes. She had a petite nose, pink lips, and shapely eyebrows. She was watching little twin blonde girls, most obviously her daughters, out of the corner of her eyes like a hawk.

The last two seated at the island were obviously the son and daughter of the first two, and less obviously brother and sister. The boy looked to be around 20 or so, with wild dark brown hair, sleepy brown eyes, and pale skin. He had several moles dotting his aristocratic face, with a streamlined nose and full pale pink lips. His sister, on the other hand, looked around her age, with lighter brown hair, tan skin, full pink lips, and green eyes. She was tall, unlike her mother, and you could only tell that they were all related because of their noses and facial structure. She was currently telling off twin boys, older than the twin girls, who had brown hair and dark eyes. They'd apparently been told numerous times before not to pinch each other.

As she observed them, they observed her right back, the kids giving her a cursory glance before returning to their show while the adults and older kids looked to be as on edge as she was. The woman at the stove gave off vibes that she knew she was there but just didn't care, too intent on her cooking to give her much notice until she was done. She stood there awkwardly until the woman turned around, rolled her eyes, and said, “Well, don't just stand there, take a seat!”

She blinked in bemusement before she slowly walked to the only empty seat at the end of the island bar, next to the oldest girl, who shot her a wary look until she gave her a timid smile which the girl seemed to relax at. She startled as a large plate of food was set in front of her, filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and hash-browns. She immediately dug in with relish and a relieved sigh. When the plate was gone in less than 5 minutes, she looked up to see the amused and slightly disgusted looks aimed her way as she swallowed the last bite. She ducked her head, a little embarrassed, and said, “Sorry. Um, thank you for breakfast, uh...”

The woman seemed to get what she was trying to say as she smiled a little and said, “Annalia. My name is Annalia.”

“Well thank you, Annalia, for breakfast and for patching me up after what happened last night,” she replied, obviously fishing for what the hell had happened after she'd lost consciousness. Annalia seemed to get it as she turned to the kids and told them to go brush their teeth and get ready for the day, which they hurriedly complied with.

After they were gone, Annalia turned to her and pinned her with an evaluating stare that she returned. Annalia seemed... powerful, was the impression she got. Sort of like how her Nanna Anna was the matriarch of her family, but this seemed a little more primal and absolute.

“Like I said before, my name is Annalia. This is my husband, Diederick, the one beside you is my daughter, Dierdre, beside her is my son Sebastian, and the two boys are my younger sons Harvey and Henry. Beside Sebastian is my sister-in-law Annabelle, and beside her, my brother Pierre. The girls are their daughters Amelia and Apolline. We're the Loup's.” She said, pointing each out to her, and they all nodded their heads politely. When she finished, Annalia looked at her expectantly. She studied her closely for a second more before she said, “Moira. Moira Albrecht.”

Because she was looking, she caught the flash of surprise in Annalia's eyes, and then a contemplative look crossed her pretty features. The older woman shook herself, looking at Moira again and said, “Do you remember anything about what happened last night?” She looked at her with an incredulous expression, eyebrows raised. “You mean about how I was attacked by a hideously deformed dog-creature from Hell? Or the part where I cut it's head off?” There were a couple of aborted snorts and a soft gag at that, though Annalia seemed amused and worried about that as well.

“Yes, um. About that.” For some reason, the woman looked to be uncharacteristically nervous, and Moira could swear she heard Annalia's heart double beat in her nervousness. Moira leaned back in her chair, evaluating the woman in front of her again. She did as her uncle once told her while talking about what he did during an investigation- put the facts together and draw your conclusions. She was attacked by a demonic-looking animal last night with bright red eyes. She'd cut off it's head after it had attacked and bitten her, and when she was about to pass out she could swear that the head hadn't been animal but human. These people had saved her and patched up her wounds, which didn't hurt at all anymore. When she'd woken up, she could see, hear, smell, taste, feel, and sense things she'd never had before. These people's last name was Loup, which was French for “wolf,” like the loup garou. Needless to say, her conclusion was not to her liking.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Moira said flatly as she looked at the woman and her family in a new light. Annalia looked startled, and then narrowed her eyes at her, a red flash going through them quickly. Moira would've played it off as a trick of the light if everything, if all of her senses weren't screaming at her that she was right. “I was bitten by a werewolf.” Annalia looked extremely startled, and the others sitting at the island jerked in shock, staring at her.

“And how did you come by that conclusion?” the man, Pierre, said with narrowed eyes. Moira raised a brow at him, giving him an 'are you kidding me?' look, before she looked back at Annalia and said, “Well the facts all fit. Like Sherlock Holmes said, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I woke up today with no pain in my wounds, and I bet if I take off these bandages they'll be completely healed, and my senses are all ridiculously enhanced. That demon-dog from last night was a werewolf, wasn't he? And so are you.” Annalia gave the younger woman a curt nod, flashing her eyes deliberately at her this time, and she slumped back in her seat, the air whooshing out of her lungs in shock.

“How did you know?” Dierdre asked from beside her. “Werewolf isn't exactly the first thing a person would think, after all. Most would try to deny anything weird had happened at all.”

“I'm a realist,” Moira said, looking down at her fingers curled on the counter. “My family has also always believed in elements of the supernatural, from stories passed down on my Nanna Anna's side of the family. Said her great-great-great grandma was a Gypsy Seer Princess, and told us to always believe certain things, like intuition, our dreams, stuff like that. It's not exactly a stretch, especially since I've had dreams come true before.” Moira sat staring, feeling all of their eyes on her and not even caring.

She'd only recently moved back in with her family after completing her bachelor's degree in business. She'd been excited to spend time with her family, to go on vacation to the place they'd used to come every year. Only 2 days in and she'd gotten turned into a werewolf. Splendid.

“So what's the deal with this? I mean, I specifically recall you coming to my rescue this morning, so obviously not everyone turns into a blood-thirsty killer-wolf on the full moon.” It was a reasonable question, Moira thought, and Annalia nodded in agreement. “No, if you have a pack and an anchor, you stay in control of yourself. Alpha werewolves, like me and the one who bit you last night, are the only ones who can turn others, and we are the only ones to have a wolf-like form. The Betas, like everyone else in this room, only have their beta forms, which Alphas have as well.”

Moira nodded slowly, and then, “Can I see?” Annalia nodded and then turned to Dierdre, who suddenly wasn't the pretty 23 year old anymore. Her ears had grown to a point, fangs descended from her gums, her eyebrows almost completely disappeared and her forehead became ridged. She grew sideburns and her fingernails lengthened into claws, while her eyes glowed a beautiful golden color.

Moira studied her closely, slightly amused to see Dierdre looked kind of self-conscious about it, but she couldn't help it. Moira was a serious lover of all things mythology, after all, and to see a real live werewolf, never mind the fact that she was apparently a werewolf now too, was too awesome to even contemplate.

“This is seriously cool,” she breathed, completely forgetting the fact that she'd previously been unhappy about it in light of this incontrovertible evidence in front of her. Suddenly, she heard her name being called from what sounded like only rooms away. “Oh shit! Sorry, I gotta go! My family's probably wondering where the heck I'm at!” Moira scrambled out of her chair and rushed down the stairs to the door to the pool area out back. She heard Annalia call out, “Come find us later! We still have a lot to talk about!”

What she didn't hear was Pierre's speculation about how strange it was that she had such excellent control already, considering the circumstances of her turning.

 

_Darkness, darkness everywhere, do you feel all alone?~_

As soon as she exited the house, Moira must have realized that her destroyed shirt was still on, as were the bandages. She immediately peeled the shirt off, internally thankful for the fact that she'd worn her bathing suit underneath it, and tore the bandages off as well. Just as she'd thought, all of her wounds were completely healed. Not only that, but a lot of the weight she'd gained after she'd started college from eating too much fast food and drinking too much alcohol was gone. So much so, in fact, that she had to adjust the strings on her bikini top to keep from accidentally flashing someone.

Moira idly mused to herself how she was going to pass this off; this thought immediately led to what the hell she was going to tell her family about the whole werewolf thing. It was a 50-50 situation, they'd either be safe and oblivious if she didn't, but then again they may be even safer not being oblivious and more prepared, just in case. Moira had no illusions about there being no danger, she did remember just how she'd gotten into this situation in the first place, and even now she could feel the wolf in her mind, wanting to get out and run. 

Pushing off these thoughts, she jogged up the ramp that led down to the beach and immediately spotted her family. The were out en force, shouting her name and drawing looks from the other beach goers. She waved and could hear the audible sigh of relief when they finally saw her. She jogged the rest of the distance easily, not even winded or off balance at all, and fixed them with a bright smile.

“Hey guys. What's up?” Acting innocent was actually one of Moira's better talents, and besides the side-eye she got from her Nanna Anna, everyone looked relieved to see her. “Moira, where have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere! Why did you just run off without telling anybody?” Her Aunt Meredith questioned. Moira was annoyed, because really, she was a 23 year old woman who yes, may have screwed up when she was a teenager and did a lot of unsavory things, but that was a long time ago. Give her a break. 

Moira leveled a look at her aunt that told her exactly what she thought about that. “I woke up early and went to watch the Blood Moon. I met this really nice family down the beach on my way back and talked to them for a while before they insisted I join them for breakfast, so I did. And before you get on my case about that not being safe, I had my knife on me. Seriously, I'm 23 years old. You'd think you could trust me just the tiniest bit.” With that said, Moira stalked down the beach, ignoring their calls for her. Why was she so angry? Moira focused herself, breathing deeply and evenly, pushing the anger away and slowing her fast paced clip. Instinctively, she thought of something that she'd once read, 'Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.'

Moira had gotten aggravated over this trust issue with them before, but she'd never thought about punching them in the face over it. 'I guess it was just really good luck that the one person that werewolf could have bitten last night was me, because I have seriously good self-control,' she thought to herself, now significantly calmed down. It was a necessity in her family to have emotional control, what with her being the oldest of 9 siblings and having to deal with all of the drama her family thought was necessary on a daily basis. 

She walked up the stairs to the beach access, stripped her cargo pants off, and jumped in the pool. The pleasantly warm water made her muscles loosen and she just floated on the surface, listening to the sounds of her family all trooping into the house, talking quietly (or so they thought) about her and how they hadn't realized that she was that annoyed by their tendency to keep tabs on her. She sighed and swam over to the edge of the pool and pushed herself out of the water, picking up a towel someone had left laying out overnight to dry. She hurried through the downstairs level past the bar and pool table and walked up the stairs to her room. Absently, she noticed that it didn't seem as cold in the house as it usually did. She wandered into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. There was still some blood clinging underneath of her fingernails so she was in definite need of a shower.

Stepping under the hot spray, Moira relaxed even further. The still tense muscles gradually loosened under the beat of the water, and she found herself thinking hard about what she was going to do about this new issue in her life. What was she going to tell her family? How was she going to learn to control this? Most importantly, though, she thought about how she could use this to her advantage. Moira was not the nicest person to people outside of her circle, and she knew and accepted this. She could be manipulative and a bitch. 'Now literally,' she thought with amusement. She could think clearer than she had in a long, long time. Moira wondered why this was. She was so deep in thought that as she ran her razor over her leg, her newfound strength unexpectedly came into play and she cut into the fleshy underside of her calf deeply.

“Shit!” Moira scrambled for a washcloth to stem to flow of blood, but as she turned back she watched in wonder as the blood trailed back up her leg into the wound, the flesh knitting over quickly just behind that until it didn't even look like she'd cut herself at all. The realization came at that moment and she nearly cried in relief.

When Moira was a teenager, she was into some heavy stuff. Drugs, alcohol, sex, you name it, she probably did it. She didn't realize how bad it was until she'd gotten arrested and immediately quit everything cold turkey. With that came the realization that her mind, her once genius-level intellect, had been severely diminished by the hard drugs and copious partying she'd done. Moira could admit to herself that the things she'd done were really bad, but they'd shaped her into the person she was now, which was fine by her- she didn't have any problem with herself. Being cynical had helped her realize the realities of the world and the problems within it.

What had bothered her the most was the loss of knowledge she'd suffered as a consequence of her wild and youthful actions. To know that now, because of a supernatural fluke, she could remember every single thing she'd ever learned, experienced, or heard, any last resistant thought to her new existence disappeared. She could finally, finally do what she wanted, get the education that she wanted without being afraid her diminished mind would fail her and she'd spiral again.

Moira quickly jumped out of the shower, wrapped her body and hair in clean towels, and went over to look in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was the humungous, bright white smile that greeted her in her reflection. What was amazing was that her teeth were ridiculously white, where before they'd been stained by too many cigarettes and poor dental hygiene. They were also straighter than before, and as she ran her tongue across them, she realized that her wisdom teeth were not going to have to be removed because they were perfectly aligned instead of pointing slightly out to rub against her cheek.

The next thing she noticed was that her skin was absolutely clear. No pimples, no white or blackheads around her slightly upturned nose, even the scar above her left eyebrow from that one night of too much wine that resulted in 7 stitches had been reduced to a small white line, leaving her eyebrows to once again arch naturally even. The roundness of her face from the weigh-gain had gone, leaving her features angular once again, with her high cheekbones and smooth jawline. Her wind-chapped lips healed, leaving them plump and pink and her eyes, ringed dark blue around the rim that faded into ice near the pupil, shone brightly against her flushed skin.

Moira pulled the towel out of her long, dark chestnut colored hair next and absently towel dried it, focused on her reflection. She'd never looked or felt this good in her life. She dropped the towel in her hand and decided to let her hair air dry next, to see if it frizzed up as usual or if it would finally naturally curl how she wanted it to. From the short amount of time that passed in between realizing how much weight she'd lost to now, the rest of it had disappeared. Moira figured that a higher metabolism to account for the strength and healing was probably to blame for that and thanked her lucky stars, yet again, that this had happened to her.

However, with this thanks, also came a fair amount of exasperation. All of the clothes she currently owned would swim on her slim frame now. She sighed, resigned, and pulled on a pair of cloth shorts and a tank top, thankful that they at least fit somewhat well. 

The next thing that she did was sit down on her laptop and begin to research. She easily discarded the mythology that she knew was utter crap and focused on the admittedly small amount of information she'd gotten from the Loup matriarch. Even still, a lot of that information was garbage or speculation. Finally, she sighed in resignation and shut the lid of the laptop, instead going over to the mirror on the dresser. She absently noticed with pleasure that her hair had, indeed, curled naturally the way she had always wanted it to; loose, soft curls that framed her face very well. She pushed that aside though to try and change like she'd seen Dierdre do.

It was a lot easier than she'd thought it would be. Barely half a second had gone by before she was staring at her fully transformed beta form. Pointed ears stuck out from her curly hair, claws curled from her fingertips, fangs descended from her top and bottom canines and her forehead was ridged. The most disconcerting thing for her, though, were the red eyes. 

She stumbled back in shock, mouth slightly open as she stared into the crimson pools that were her eyes. So far, the only red eyes she'd seen belonged to Annalia and the Alpha who'd bitten her. Dierdre had gold eyes, didn't she? Did this mean she was an Alpha too? Moira quickly reigned in the change, dashing out of the house in a panic.

The subtle grace of gravity, the heavy weight of stone~

Moira sprinted down the beach, skirting around sunbathers and children alike in her haste to get to the Loup's vacation home. She was in such a rush that she didn't notice the ease and grace of her movements over the shifting sand, and almost passed up the wooden staircase leading to their fenced in backyard. With nary a thought, she leaped into the air, clearing the 5 foot tall gate with ease, only skidding to a stop when she noticed that the entire family had congregated on the back patio to cook out. She wasn't even out of breath as she blurted out, “I have red eyes.” 

Annalia sighed, before gesturing to a bar stool and saying, “I thought you might. It's rare, but not entirely unheard of for someone who was just bitten to manage to kill the Alpha that bit them, especially if the Alpha was in a rage like... he was last night.”

Moira was not stupid. The slight pause Annalia made was very telling.

“You knew him,” was all she said, keen eyes trained on the small woman, observing as she let out a small, sad sigh and nodded her head.

“Yes, I knew him. He was not a friend, exactly, more of an acquaintance. An ally, if you will. It's part of werewolf hierarchy and politics, which I'll tell you about some other time. His name was Miles McMurphy, you may have heard of him?”

“You mean the multimillionaire Miles McMurphy? The guy who accumulated like, $50 million in a single quarter Miles McMurphy? Who lost his wife and kids in a freak car accident not long ago?” Moira was shocked. The face staring back at her last night hadn't really looked like him, after all. That may be because she'd only seen pictures of him. When he was very much alive. She suddenly felt very, very sick. There was a reason she'd tried not to think about that.

“Yes, that's him. He lost his entire pack in one single blow. His mate, his 4 children, his bodyguard and his driver... I have a feeling he knew, just knew that he'd go feral this full moon, and that's why he was here... I think he was hoping that I'd kill him, or restrain him. I'm so sorry I didn't get to you in time, Harvey and Apolline were having trouble controlling their shifts because of the eclipse and by the time we got there it was already too late,” Annalia said, looking pained and apologetic. 

Moira could smell the emotions wafting off of her, somehow instinctively recognizing them as guilt and sadness. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, having been pushing away the horror and sickness and guilt that came with the knowledge that she'd killed somebody. These people had known him, had interacted with him and that made him seem much more human than the beast that had attacked her did. He'd had a family, a job, a life and because of her he was dead. It didn't matter that he'd attacked her in what she now knew was a grief-enraged state, he was dead and it was all her fault.

Leaping out of the chair, she darted over to the bushes, heaving out half-digested food from breakfast and bile. She remained bent over until there was nothing left, gagging both at the smell and taste of her mess. She vaguely registered that there was someone holding back her hair and rubbing circles on her bent back, while another hand offered her a bottle of water. She gratefully took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a mouthful. She swished the cool liquid around in her mouth and spit it out before taking another gulp to ease her rough and parched throat. Seconds later, the feeling associated with vomiting vanished and she was never more grateful for her advanced healing than now.

“Come over here, that's it, sit down right here, you're fine, you're okay,” was the sound she registered next. She flopped into the proferred seat, breathing deeply to help control her still roiling stomach. Once she got herself under control, she looked up into the concerned faces of Annalia and Annabelle, who respectfully stepped back when her hackles rose without her permission. Squashing down the feeling she got with another Alpha so close to her, she croaked out an apology which was dismissed with a waved hand.

“It's alright, dear, it happens to everyone their first time. If you hadn't guessed, our world, the world you now belong to, is very violent. There are only a few ways to gain an Alpha's powers, after-all, and the most common is through death, by killing the Alpha to take their powers, outright stealing them, or if the Alpha dies, the next in line inherits. This isn't even counting the hunters, which we'll teach you how to avoid, and other supernatural threats as well,” Annalia said, small smile on her face but sadness still behind her eyes. “If you don't mind my asking, where exactly are you from?”

“Just outside of Pittsburgh,” Moira said, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. She noticed the surprised, pleased, and worried expressions around her and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, I was going to give you some tips on how to get by if you happen to live in established packlands and how you should deal with the Alpha without fighting, but this'll be much easier. We're from Washington, PA. Do you live in Allegheny County?”

“No, I live in Butler County,” Moira replied, surprised and a little excited to know that they didn't live all that far away. If anyone could help her control herself, it was this family.

“That's perfect, then. The Alpha of Pittsburgh and most of Allegheny County is a brute who controls his packlands with an iron fist. He's egotistical, irrational, greedy, and doesn't compromise for anything. The moron even calls himself Baron Wolfgang,” Annalia finished with a snort that Moira copied, breaking down into laughter next.

“Baron... Baron Wolfgang? Seriously? He named himself after an evil comic book character? Oh my God, what an idiot!” She was shocked out of her laughter when Sebastian jumped up, pointed at his mom and yelled, “SEE! I told you!” She started laughing again, rubbing at her right eye a little before calming down.

“OK, so, should I expect any trouble from him? I have a sister who goes to Pitt, and I was planning on enrolling, too. Also, I live pretty close to Allegheny borders. Should I prepare for an attack or something?”

“No, you should be fine. Our Laws are very clear on Territory, and if you Claim Butler County as yours, he can't attack without retaliation from any nearby pack whom you ally yourself with,” Annalia said succinctly. “Also, if you plan on attending Pitt, you'll only have to give him an obligatory warning. We change with the times, see, adapt to our surroundings, so when shifters started wanting to travel for school, we had a Conclave Meeting of every Alpha in the US to establish that rule. If he attacks after your warning, the same Law applies- he can expect retaliation. I don't believe he'll do anything, though. He covets his power too much to risk losing it. Plus, Dierdre goes to Pitt and she's not had any problems.”

Moira let out a sigh of relief. She'd ask about the minutia later. At least this was pretty straight forward. She glanced at the clock and was shocked at just how much time had passed.

“I'm sorry to run out on you again, but I have to get back for dinner tonight. Should I come here tomorrow?” She asked, slightly uncertain. She didn't want to burden them on their vacation, after all, and there were things she would want to do while here too.

“You can come here whenever you feel like you need to, please don't hesitate. I mean that seriously,” Annalia said with a smile. Moira returned it, before thanking them all for putting up with her, and left.

_You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear~_

October 11th, 2014

“Okay, so, weaknesses. Any variant of the wolfsbane plant affects us, but only some are fatal. Most wolfsbane petals and their derivatives force us to show our true form. Some are used to paralyze, like yellow monkshood, some are used to kill, some are used to heal, and some, when added to alcohol, can get us drunk, because apparently alcohol no longer affects me because of my new metabolism. Yay,” Moira said sarcastically. She'd come to the Loup's vacation home (because they were rich as hell and could afford a ten million dollar beach house) for lessons on werewolves and other shifters. “Also, high voltages of electricity, beheading, which is obvious, fire if they can't escape in time, also obvious, and... seriously? They cut us in half?! Do they still do that?!” She said, feeling equal parts nauseous and outraged. They think werewolves are savages, and they do that?

“Some traditional families still use that method, yes. Can you guess which ones?” Annalia was, apparently, a retired History professor. When she taught, she took on a particularly teacher-like tone.

“The Argent's, the Calavera's, the Mortenson's, and the Grimm's, not to be confused with the tv show,” Moira guessed.

“You're mostly correct. I know that I taught you about the Argent's, but that family has been reduced to a single member, Christopher Argent. Rumor has it that his daughter, Allison, the heir of the family, became very good friends with several werewolves after they relocated from San Francisco to Beacon Hills. She hadn't known about her heritage at the time, and by the time she figured it out, she was already in love with one of them, the True Alpha Scott McCall. After a series of events, including the supposed death of Kate Argent and the apparent betrayal of Gerard Argent, the decimation of the Alpha pack and the defeat of a Darach by a mysterious ally of theirs, one of her friends was possessed by a dark spirit called a Nogitsune. He used the tails of a Kitsune to control a group of demons called Oni, and she died in the melee, saving her friends. She had, by that point, changed the Argent family code from 'Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent,' or 'We hunt those who hunt us,' to 'Nous protegeons ceux qui ne puevent pas se proteger eux-memes,' which means 'We protect those who cannot protect themselves.' Not all of the hunter families supported this change, however. The Calavera's and the Mortenson's refused to change their code, while the Grimm's, who were usually more relaxed about who needed to be hunted, embraced the change wholeheartedly. That probably had something to do with their eldest daughter, Gretchen, marrying a born wolf she'd met. This, ironically enough, all happened within the last several months,” Annalia lectured. It was a fascinating and also sad story, just showing that this world wasn't a kind one.

“Now, describe to me what the following emotions smell like...”

October 14th, 2014

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” Moira said sadly to Dierdre. They'd formed a fast friendship, bonding over werewolfisms (as Moira called it) and other common interests. Dierdre had shown her, personally, how to dry and crush a certain strain on wolfsbane into the powder they put in alcohol so that they could feel it's effects. They'd had to test it to make sure it worked, of course, and that produced some very hilarious pictures and probably (most definitely) blackmail.

“My family also wants to meet you,” she continued. “Well, not just you, your entire family. They said, and I quote, 'We've not seen you so vibrant since high school!' I think they want some tips,” she said with a smirk.

“We'd love to come!” Annalia said from the kitchen. It still amazed Moira that she could be all the way out here, on the beach, and still hear and be heard from that far away. Thank God none of her family were wolves. It was awkward as it was since she was turned and her Aunt Meredith and Uncle Daniel's dog, Brisbane, had been following her everywhere.

“Well! That settles that then. What time do we have to be there?” Dierdre asked with a smirk. Moira rolled her eyes before saying, “7 should be fine. There's tons of us going to be there so it'll take a while to cook tonight.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. Her family had had to rent two houses, side by side, to fit everyone. Besides Moira, there were her Aunt Meredith and Uncle Daniel, her Nanna Anna and Pappa Lewis, her dad, Theodore Albrecht, Moira's sister Emilia and her boyfriend Micah, their son and daughter, Elias and Novalee, Moira's other sisters Isley and Amanda, and her brother, Shiloah. That wasn't even her entire immediate family, either! So add on the Loup family, there were going to be 23 people stuffed into one house tonight.

“Alrighty then, we'll probably be by at 6:30 or so. Should we bring anything?” Dierdre asked with a bright smile. Moira just shrugged.

“I'm sure it won't matter, but if there's anything specific you guys like, you can bring it. We don't really cook French.”

“Okay! See you then!”

Dinner that night was, to put it kindly, hell. There were children everywhere (a 3 year old, a 5 year old, two 6 year olds, and two 10 year olds). Sebastian was instantly enamored with Isley, who thought he was 'just the hottest', which Theo definitely didn't like but Amanda agreed with, so they sat in a corner giggling the whole time while Sebastian sat in another corner, mooning. Brisbane fell in love with Dierdre (it had nothing to do with her feeding him pieces of food). Nanna Anna, Annalia, and Annabelle got along splendidly, but Meredith didn't like Annalia for some reason (aka Annalia was around her age and looked 30 at the most).

Pappa Lewis, Theo, Uncle Daniel, Micah, Shiloah, Pierre, and Diederick hid away with cigars somewhere to escape, while Annabelle, Moira, Emilia, and Dierdre tried to herd the children while Nanna Anna and Annalia helped in the kitchen with Meredith snarking at them the whole time (Nanna Anna later told Aunt Meredith she should be ashamed of her behavior over such a petty thing; Aunt Meredith was appropriately chastised).

The good news was that no claws or fangs came out, the children were (mildly) well behaved, with friendships made between Elias, Amelia, and Apolline, who were thoroughly charmed by Elias' wide blue eyes and golden curls. No one was stabbed with a fork OR a knife, either, which actually could happen with Moira's family. 

There were thankfully no drunken shenanigans, property damage, or fighting, and the food turned out absolutely delicious, thank goodness. Before they left, Annalia made sure that Nanna Anna, Uncle Daniel, and Theo had her number just in case, and made sure that Moira had all of the Loup's numbers, e-mails, their address, and Skype, also just in case. What exactly the 'just in case' meant, no one but Moira knew, but it was better that way, for now at least.

_It floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier~_

October 24th, 2014-

The past two weeks had gone by surprisingly fast. Outside of work, Moira had spent most of her time writing everything she learned from the Loup's into a leather bound notebook she'd picked up at a yard sale for 50 cents. She kept in constant contact with them via Skype, and went to their compound in Washington to learn control, history, politics, and the Law from them

One thing that she learned that intrigued her was that, while an Alpha had to be well versed in all of those things, usually the keeping of their history and the upholding of the Law went through the Second of each pack. As Moira had no second (yet), she was filling all of those roles right now.

Another thing she found out that delighted her was that her family, the Albrecht's, were apparently descended from a prominent werewolf pack in Germany. Sometime back after World War I, one of the sons of the Alpha at the time, who was born human, decided to stay human. He married, had human children, and those human children had come to America around the time Hitler was rising to power, eventually culminating in Moira and her siblings. Pierre speculated that it was this reason, that she had a latent werewolf gene in her blood, that allowed her to not only survive the transition this late in life, but for her to have almost as much control as a born wolf had.

One thing that she learned that she did not like one bit, was that there was no protection for supernatural creatures outside of themselves. As evidenced by the massacre perpetrated by Kate Argent 10 years ago, it was easy for hunters, especially from the Four Families, to infiltrate and bribe the government to look away from some of the horrendous things they did in violation of their own code.

Apparently, when America was founded, the Founding Father's were completely aware of the supernatural. Back then, the various groups governed themselves fairly well, with hunters only being necessary some of the time. Trusting the two groups to keep each other balanced, the Founding Father's didn't write anything into the constitution to help if there was one day an imbalance of power. With the high rate of growth to the supernatural population of the Americas and the near eradication of the hunting families here because of rising tensions, a proper way of governance was needed.

Sadly, no one else had thought of this as a viable solution, or if they had, had no means to implement it.

Besides learning the history and ways of the supernatural community, Moira had also been contacted by a law firm concerning Miles McMurphy. Specifically, his demise.

Apparently, Mr. McMurphy had revised his will a week before the last full moon, stating that in the event of his death, all of his assets and properties were to be bequeathed to whoever succeeded him. Namely, Moira.

So here she was, two days later and still in a daze, sitting in the law offices of Mink & Walthers in Pittsburgh. She'd hired Alfred Walthers to represent her in this, in case there was something in the papers that would incriminate her in Mr. McMurphy's death. 

“Well, everything seems to be in order here,” Walthers said with a big smile, pushing the massive folder of papers towards her. He'd, somehow, managed to go through the folder in only 4 hours.

“So, when I sign this, I get... how much exactly?” Moira said, still faint, certain that this was all a dream. Hell, she'd probably been dreaming the past month up, stuck in a coma or something.

“When you sign that, you will receive approximately 638 million, along with 17 properties scattered over the world. One of them is actually in Sewickley Heights, so you'll be able to move there easily if you so wish,” Walthers said happily, no doubt thinking about how much he'd be paid for this.

Just another thing she'd have to tell her family. Oh God, what if the news caught wind of this?

“Mr. Walthers, after I sign this, do you think there'll be any way to delay the news from getting out? There are certain... things I need to tell my family that they have no idea about,” she said shakily, picking up the fine golden pen he'd pushed towards her.

“Certainly, certainly! It'll be quite easy to bury these under something less important but no less news worthy, such as the news that a benefactor for the will has been found. Take the time you need to let your family know about this and, uh, the, uh, other thing,” he said, sweating a little around the collar. This instantly got Moira's attention. She focused in on him, noticing that his heart was jack-rabbiting in his chest. So. He knew then. She took a deep breath, but no, he was totally human unless he had mastered concealing his scent, which Moira didn't think was likely.

“So you are... aware, then, about my true nature?” She asked, a sickly sweet smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Ah, yes, yes, I'm in the know about... that. My sister is a panther. Bitten, of course. She lives in Florida with her husband and 2 kids, who love their uncle Alfred very much,” he babbled nervously.  
Moira gave out a low chuckle that made him shiver. “Don't worry, Mr. Walthers, I have a feeling I'm going to need a good lawyer, preferably in the know, to keep on retainer from now on. I just became a multimillionaire, after all.”

Walthers sighed in obvious relief, not only that his life had been spared, but that he had such a high profile client keeping him on retainer. “Thank you so much, Ms. Albrecht.”

“It is no problem, Mr. Walthers. I actually have a question for you. Is there any way for you to file this under my mother's maiden name, perhaps? My family's not exactly on the up-and-up of my situation, and I'd rather tell them myself than have them find out this way.”

“Yes, that should be fine. Is there any particular name you'd wish for it to be filed under?”

“Frances Hastings, please.” With that, Moira picked up the pen and started signing.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude between Chapters 1 and 2

Annalia watched the girl go with trepidation. She was an anomaly, Annalia could sense it, and she knew that her brother could tell as well. To come up with the correct answer so quickly as to what had happened to her and to be so blasé about it...

 

“I am amazed that the girl isn't a slobbering, feral mess right now,” Pierre said, scratching idly at his chin.

 

“What do you mean?” Sweet Annabelle asked, confused, because despite being part of the family for close to 7 years now she still couldn't grasp some things about werewolves. She was only human, of course.

 

“He means that that girl, Moira, just killed an Alpha after she was bitten by him. She obviously transitioned or she'd be dead otherwise, but as you know, one of the only ways to become an Alpha is to kill the Alpha. That means...” Annalia trailed off, that terrible feeling of trepidation returning.

 

“That means that she is most likely an Alpha as well, one that gained the power of the position mere minutes after being bitten initially. She hasn't had time to adjust to being a werewolf and has gained that power. Most people would be feral, attacking anything that moved right now, but she's right as rain, if a little overwhelmed. It's remarkable,” Diederick said, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Do you believe it might be because of her heritage? That she's so well in control, I mean.”

 

Pierre and Annalia glanced at each other. Their father had had dealings with the Albrecht's before, but never once had Johan ever mentioned any family living in the States. Then again, they weren't privy to everything that had been discussed at those meetings.

 

“If she is, in fact, a descendent of the Albrecht pack then it might, but the name Albrecht is not only confined to that family,” Pierre said slowly, obviously thinking it over. A bright gleam entered his eye at the thought of this puzzle. “It would also explain how she survived in the first place. It's extremely rare for anyone over the age of 20 to survive the transition, but perhaps because she carries the werewolf genome it didn't strain her physiology like it would a normal human.”

 

“Yes, but what about the stories? Human children of shifters dying during transition is the reason no sane Alpha would bite anyone over the age of 20,” argued Annalia, thinking back to the horror stories told by her mother growing up. As the Heir to her father, she was expected to know these things for when she took up his mantle.

 

“That was centuries ago, though. True, human children in packs were much healthier than not, but they could still be infected with sicknesses that we can't. There could be any number of reasons they didn't survive the transition while Moira did, starting with the fact that humans nowadays are generally healthier,” Diederick riposted, glancing to his right to see Pierre nodding in agreement.

 

“It doesn't really matter how she survived, what matters is that she did,” Dierdre calmly stated, hoping to break up the brewing tensions. Sebastian looked at her gratefully, not keen on witnessing another famous Loup argument. His father and uncle would whine for days after getting thoroughly trounced by his mother in the inevitable brawl.

 

Anything else that might have been said was cut off by a stampede of little feet coming up the stairs. Henry and Harvey skidded behind Annalia, hiding between her legs while Amelia and Apolline glared, soaking wet and very angry.

 

“Boys! What did you do to your cousins?” Annalia barked, red flaring through her eyes. Both boys cowed back, instinctively baring their necks to her. After a moment, however, the boys glanced at each other and smirked mischievously.

 

“Nothing! Swear. They just had a bit of dirt...” Henry said, trailing off at his mother's glare. “...all over their faces?” They both winced at the low growl that escaped her throat.

 

“After you apologize, you're going to come with me shopping for today's cookout. No buts!” Annalia sternly said, cutting off their indignant responses. Heaving a put upon sigh, she turned back towards the rest of the adults. “We'll finish this discussion later, after dinner.”

 

She resolutely ignored Pierre hiding a smirk behind his coffee mug.

 

* * *

 

 

Dierdre walked into the house, frowning in thought. Her mother had asked her to befriend Moira, which wasn't really hard in retrospect. They had a lot of similar interests, including a huge one in mythologies from across the world. The poor girl was a bundle of self-consciousness and uncertainty at the start, only some of it from her recent change of species, so Dierdre being friendly with her was very welcome. That wasn't what was bothering her, anyway.

 

Moira seemed to be...changing, and not in the sense that she had become a werewolf recently. The more that Dierdre talked to her, the cockier the girl became. When Dierdre was advising her on techniques to control herself closer to the full moon, the girl had dismissed her, saying that she already had a good handle on it. Their 'girl's night', which included a lot of wolfsbane laced alcohol, showed that she was good at controlling the beast, even when intoxicated out of her mind.

 

True, Moira's self control was admirable in the face of her situation, but Dierdre wondered if she wouldn't become so confident that she could control her emotions that she would put herself and her family in danger on a full moon. Despite that arrogance, Dierdre knew that Moira cared about her family and could never live with herself if she hurt one of them. That was evidenced by her continued agony over what had happened to Miles McMurphy.

 

Moira was pretty good at hiding her emotions, either seeming neutral or happy in front of everyone else, but Dierdre was a born and bred werewolf, raised to be her mother's Heir in all things. She knew when someone was hiding something that could potentially be catastrophic to everyone, especially to themselves. If Moira didn't accept her part in McMurphy's death and start to move on, she would spiral out of control in her grief and guilt, which was never, ever a good thing for a werewolf, let alone an Alpha.

 

Another thing that bothered Dierdre about Moira was her narcissistic tendencies. Their superior physiology seemed to unearth a half-buried belief that she was above everyone else because of not only her looks and intelligence, but now her new, enhanced senses. Dierdre had noticed when they first brought the girl into their house, bloodied and unconscious, that she wasn't toned from exercise. Now that she had a 'beach body and a booty that kills,' in her own words, she seemed to soak up the attentions any half-decent looking man on the beach gave her.

 

Moira also seemed to be subconsciously pushing away the people in her life that cared for her. She spent less and less time with her family, while spending more and more time with Dierdre's family. Actually, in the past several days Dierdre had gone from hearing about her niece and nephew all of the time to nothing at all. Granted, it had only been several days, but she hadn't spent any time with them at all since she was bitten.

 

So yes, Dierdre was worried about her new friend. Despite all of the negative qualities the woman seemed to display, a lot of that was outweighed by her genuine care for her family and the intellectual discussions they had about the various pantheons of gods and the veracity of some myths.

 

Dierdre's face suddenly rearranged itself into a look of determination. Moira was a good person deep down, cynical and jaded because of the various unsaid things in her past. Dierdre knew that she needed someone in her corner while adjusting to life as a shifter and vowed that she would be that person. Now, to convince her family to do the same, and survive the family dinner tonight...

 

* * *

 

 

Anna Martinelli could tell something was wrong with her eldest granddaughter, Moira. Well, not wrong, per se, but different. Very different. Having known her since she was only hours old, when she'd been the first person to hold her besides her parents, Anna knew Moira like she knew her own hand.

 

Ever since she'd gone out to see that moon several days ago, every moment not spent with her family was spent with the one that she'd met, the Loup's. Anna normally would've suspected something nefarious judging by Moira's past decisions, like drugs or alcohol, but she seemed so vibrant that Anna could just tell that that wasn't it. She looked healthy, in fact. Even more healthy than she'd been when they'd come here on vacation, which pinged somewhere on her radar, but she just couldn't tell what it was. Perhaps she'd find out tonight, at the family dinner...

 

* * *

 

 

Emilia wasn't a fool. She was raised with Moira, she'd played with Moira, she'd fought with Moira. She knew Moira better than Moira knew herself, and suspected the same was true in return. So when Moira came back from those people's house, missing the shirt she'd been wearing the night before and seemingly 20 pounds thinner, Emilia was suspicious.

 

At first, she thought that maybe it was drugs. God only knew the type of shit Moira had gotten herself into when she was high, so maybe she'd consented to a good old-fashioned MacGuyver-esque liposuction with a shopvac and a garbage bag. The lack of open, leaking wounds attested that that was not, in fact, what it was. But it still didn't explain the missing weight.

 

Whatever it was, Emilia was both intrigued and horrified. Intrigued, because pushing out two kids before she hit 19 was not good for her figure, and horrified, because whatever it was was probably not healthy in the slightest. After a few days of watching her and a horror movie marathon, Emilia concluded that Moira had not found a really good plastic surgeon or diet pills, and the reality was far more fantastical. The fact that the notoriously skeptical man that was her boyfriend, Micah, agreed with her was just icing on the cake.

 

Emilia had never claimed to be as smart as her sister. Hell, she knew that for a fact, but there were few people who could claim to be smarter than Moira. The IQ tests proved that. That said, she wasn't stupid, either. She could put together a puzzle like everyone else, given enough clues. Like when on that first day she'd whizzed past everyone taking advantage of the unseasonable October weather and sprinted down the beach, not stumbling on the sand at all and even launching herself over a kid at one point. Or the time when their father had almost dropped a glass and she'd caught it midair. Or when, one morning, she'd wrinkled her nose and told their Pappa Lewis to 'take a shower for God's sake, you stink'- when she'd only just walked through the door. The clincher, though, was when Emilia knew that Moira had cut her foot open on a shell at the beach. Had seen the wound and the blood for a second, even, but when Moira said she was fine and Emilia was skeptical, she'd just showed her a cut-free foot and continued on.

 

So, her sister was a werewolf, and Emilia'd bet all of her admittedly meager funds that the Loup family she'd met were, too. God, their name even meant 'wolf', how unsubtle could they be? Instead of confronting her about it and risking getting her throat torn out, Emilia and Micah both agreed to wait.

 

Moira never could keep anything from her long, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Theo didn't know his daughters as well as he should. Having your first kid when you were only 24 didn't make you grow up, which he'd found out quickly. Having your second only 2 years later, with your wife divorcing you soon after because of postpartum depression, made it even worse. So he'd basically pawned his kids off on his mom and got on with the party.

 

4 years later, he had a shotgun wedding because he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant and immediately got a job far away from her, only stopping long enough to pop out another before leaving again. Never mind that he'd left his two oldest with a woman that encompassed the evil step-mother AND step-sisters from Cinderella in one great package.

 

He tried to make up for it by buying tons of Christmas presents and teaching Moira to hunt and fish. He actually really enjoyed that time with his daughter, because he'd never expected her to like those things and it actually gave them something to bond over. Eventually, though, his job had him working more and more away from home, so even that fell to the wayside.

 

He'd seemed to come to his senses when Moira was 14 and started dating her first boyfriend, an admittedly nice guy named Nick. At first, he'd hated the guy, not only because he was 2 years and some change older than her, but also because _he_ was supposed to be the only man in her life. It was at that point he started re-evaluating his life and his decisions, trying to make up for them. Of course, it wasn't that easy. He divorced the harpy woman, but now his two youngest, Shiloah and Isley, seemed to hate him. Moira was dating a guy older than her and Emilia was practically a devil child in sheep's clothing.

 

Everything became even worse when Moira was 16 and he fell on ice and broke his back in several places. Not enough to become paralyzed, but enough for it to hurt like a bitch all of the time. It took a couple of years, but with pretty much everything shit and hitting 40 years old, he turned to the bottle and pills. He made the mistake, one night, to call Moira to pick him up from the bar after he puked his guts out. Once she got him back to her house (the traitor not taking him to his dad's, who had lived several blocks away from his mother before he'd died), he'd gone inside where his girlfriend at the time confronted him. He couldn't excuse what he did next, ever, but he definitely pushed her away pretty hard, making her stumble back into his mother, who was shocked and appalled at his behavior. No one was more appalled, however, than Moira, who'd witnessed the whole thing.

 

He'd really come to his senses right at that moment, because the next moment he was being lifted up by the collar of his jacket and slammed into a wall by an enraged 18 year old girl. He couldn't remember exactly what she'd said to him as she jerked him forward and then shoved him back towards the door to the living room, several times before he got over his shock enough to stumble away from her lest she clock him like she looked like she dearly wanted to, but he knew that it was Very Not Good. After that, he'd made an effort to get to know her better, and he quit the drink and pills for good measure.

 

Now, 5 years later, he knew a lot about her, but not a lot about what made her tick. Even so, he could tell that something was different about her in a good way. She seemed... happier. He was glad that whatever it was was good. He knew that if anything else bad happened to her she'd probably crack.

 

* * *

 

 

Annalia tried very, very hard not to strangle the girl in front of her. Not only was it poor form for a host to strangle a guest, it was also grounds for a war between Alphas. No doubt that Annalia would win that fight, but a lot of members of the supernatural community were curious about the new Albrecht Alpha. _Annalia_ was curious about the new Albrecht Alpha. What kind of Alpha was she going to be when she had full control and started building a pack? The only downside, right now, was that the girl just couldn't get it through her mind that no matter how much control she seemed to have, the first full moon would take a lot out of her.

 

They'd been spending a lot of time with her whenever available, usually on the weekends. Moira would drive out to their compound and take lessons on everything from Politics to control, which she seemed to excel at, which was promising. However, like Dierdre had noticed, Moira had gotten way more arrogant these past couple of weeks than she'd been before. Added to that, Annalia had been contacted by Mile's lawyers, hoping that she'd know who was to inherit his fortune. She'd had to tell them about Moira and the new situation, but had advised them to wait until after the first full moon to go through with the transfer.

 

She had a feeling they ignored her. This girl's sense of entitlement was going to skyrocket the second she signed those papers. Still, Annalia felt like she had an obligation to the girl, since it was essentially her fault Moira had gotten bitten in the first place. Moira just needed a lesson in humility, which with the upcoming full moon wouldn't be too hard to do. They just needed to get through the meeting this weekend without an incident and everything would be fine.

 

'Here's to hoping,' Annalia thought.

 


	3. Chapter 2

_October 31st, 2014-_

 

Today was a big day for Moira. Not only was she now a multimillionaire, she was leaving for a meeting between Alphas in Western Pennsylvania. There were only a few; Moira, Annalia, Baron Wolfgang, an Alpha in Tionesta named Rupert, one in Erie named Eric, and one in Altoona named Farrow. Of course, it wasn't just Alphas that were going to be there. Annalia was taking Diederick as he was her Mate, Pierre as he was her Second, Dierdre as she was her Heir, and Sebastian because he was the future second to Dierdre. Annabelle was staying home to watch the kids and make sure nothing happened with the rest of the non-family pack.

 

Right now, though, her Aunt and Uncle were having a cook-out for Halloween and also to take advantage of one of the last nice days of the year. She'd already told her Aunt and Uncle that she was moving out after staying with them for several months, supposedly having made enough money to put down on a house. They'd been surprisingly understanding, thank goodness, and were excited for her taking the next step in her life. Moira was doubly excited because her favorite cousin was going to be here, and she hadn't seen him in almost 5 years.

 

David Kowalski was a big man. He'd been an Army Ranger before separating from the military, where he immediately found himself a job amongst the ranks of the Secret Service. After several years working to protect the President, he'd quietly quit his job and moved to Florida, where he found work heading a task force with the DEA to catch drug smugglers coming in from Cuba and Latin America. He'd done it to spend more time with his family, only for his wife to cheat on him several years later. If there was one person in her family that she thought might know about the supernatural, it was him, because of his close work with the President.

 

Her theory was proven true when, all throughout the party, she could feel his eyes on her. He was studying her, watching her movements with the calculating expression of a professional. She was in the kitchen, getting another drink when he walked in and closed the door to the deck behind him.

 

“What happened?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. Moira didn't even try to beat around the bush. “I was attacked last full moon.”  
  
He let out an explosive sigh, reaching a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Miles McMurphy?” He asked, prompting a surprised look from her.

 

“How did you know?” Moira watched him suspiciously as he took a seat at the island, taking a long pull from his beer.

 

“We keep an eye on persons of interest. There was concern that he would act... irrationally after the deaths of his family,” he said, gesturing towards her with his free hand. She nodded, having suspected he wasn't as out of the game as he made it seem. “So... what're you going to do about it?” She asked, watching as he leveled a serious gaze on her.

 

“I'm going to protect you.”

 

 

Two hours later she walked out of his hotel bathroom, clipping on her left earring. She'd bought a beautiful black Marchesca lace and tulle gown that fit her figure as perfectly as it could, not being tailored. Her hair was naturally curled, falling down over her shoulders in waves while her bangs were swept across her forehead over her right eye, curling back slightly at her temples. Her make-up was simple; eyeliner, mascara, a little eye shadow, clear lip gloss, and a beautiful matching choker and earring set that were silver with emeralds set into them. A simple silver hair comb secured the sides of her hair that were pulled back, just below the crown of her head.

 

Uncle David had on a very well cut three piece Armani suit, which made Moira wonder just how much money he made.

 

“I always bring this with me, just in case,” he informed her at seeing her raised brow and impressed expression. She wordlessly handed him the matching tie, which was now saturated in her scent (better safe than sorry). He grimaced as he put it on. “You scented this, didn't you.” She just smiled at him, grabbing up her little black Chanel clutch, the heels of her black Louboutin's clicking on the tile in front of the hotel room door. It was amazing what one could buy and get express shipped on the internet.

 

Thankfully, this years gathering was graciously hosted by the Baron Wolfgang. He'd rented out a medium sized room at the Double Tree hotel, and had it tastefully decorated in a Halloween theme.

 

Moira had not met the man yet, but she had to admit he had style. Though that opinion was tarnished when she actually saw him for the first time.

 

He was surrounded by what could only be a posse, which mostly consisted of big, brutish looking men and scantily clad women. A whiff of the air in that direction informed her that most of those girls were not, in fact, any sort of shifter, but human. It made her wonder just why they were here, except to maybe make him look better. David scoffed lowly under his breath beside her, before straightening up, suddenly alert. Moira felt the familiar presence behind her and smiled, gracefully turning around and bidding her Uncle to do the same.

 

“Annalia! Dierdre! How wonderful you two look tonight! And these barbarians clean up real nice, too!” She exclaimed, genuinely excited to see them.

 

Annalia and Dierdre had dressed much in the same fashion Moira had; of course, it'd been those two who'd advised her on what she should wear. Annalia was wearing a flattering deep purple Vera Wang gown with silver accents and matching jewelry, while Dierdre had gone the daring route and chosen a blood red Yves Saint Laurent number with matching Louboutin's and tarnished silver jewelry with large rubies inlaid in it.

 

The men all had on tailored Versace, Armani, and Louis Vuitton tuxedos, while Diederick had a purple bow tie to match his wife and Sebastian had on a blood red thin tie to match his sister. Pierre had on a plain black bow tie, already looking bored and slightly disgusted. No one said anything, they didn't need to. Besides, insulting the host would be bad form no matter how much of a fool he was making himself look.

 

“I'd like to introduce you all to my cousin, David Kowalski. Uncle David, this is my good friend Annalia Loup, Alpha of the Loup Pack,” she said formally, stepping back with a slight bow so they could greet each other. They clasped forearms with Annalia giving a slight nod of her head, while David gave a much deeper nod to show his respect. As was custom, Annalia was the one who introduced the members of her pack.

 

“David, this is my mate Diederick du Commefou, my second, Pierre du Loup, my heir, Dierdre du Loup, and my heir's future second, Sebastian du Loup. We are pleased to make your acquaintance,” Annalia said carefully, not completely understanding why he was here. Moira smiled reassuringly to her before saying, “My Uncle David is former Secret Service.” That was enough for them to relax slightly. It'd been suspected for years that the highest levels of government were aware of their existence, just never proven. Until now obviously. Suddenly, Pierre's expression went curiously blank as he obviously noted something behind her.

 

“Ah! The Loup's! Glad you could make it tonight,” said a smarmy voice, practically dripping with fakeness. David twitched slightly, as no matter his training he was still human, but at least his heartbeat didn't jump. The rest of them fixed their faces with polite smiles as they turned to the disturbance.

 

It was, of course, Baron Wolfgang. None of the other guests were as sleezy as he was. If Moira'd seen him on the street when she was still human, she'd have thought he was quite attractive. He was tall, with tan skin, full lips, and a stylishly cut head of brown hair. He had blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled and a chiseled jawline that you could cut diamond on.

 

That said, he also reeked of false pleasantry. His suit was off of a rack, and he wore a clunky knock off Rolex on his wrist. Clearly he'd intimidated someone to set this up for him, because he looked like he could barely afford boxed wine, never mind the Dom Perignon cooling in ice buckets on the refreshments table.

 

“And who is this? I've never seen you around here before, and believe me, I would've remembered. Baron Wolfgang, at your service,” he said as he snatched up Moira's hand, laying a kiss on the back of it before she could stop him. She gently but firmly removed her hand from his, mindful of the posse behind him and the other guests who'd stopped to watch, no doubt wondering the same thing.

 

“I am Alpha Moira von Albrecht, Alpha Wolfgang. Accompanying me is my cousin, Special Agent David Kowalski,” she stated coolly, watching as his face betrayed first his shock, and then the barely concealed fury.

 

One of the things that Moira had made doubly sure to check on after she inherited McMurphy's fortune was the Territory and Inheritance Laws. One subsection of this was what was basically a grandfather law. It helped in this situation in a very major way.

 

Baron Wolfgang controlled most of Allegheny County, which fortunately did not included Sewickley Heights, but bordered it heavily. This would have normally made it close to impossible for another Alpha to own property there without the current Alpha's knowledge. However, Miles McMurphy's father was a genius, and he had directed his son to buy strategically placed properties in the Americas at the end of a regime- aka when the current Alpha of an area was either going to die naturally, or was about to be ousted. To do this, they gave a gift to said Alpha, usually in monetary form, to do with as they wished and got permission to buy and use that property whenever they wanted for the rest of time, no matter who was current Alpha and would face no penalties for it. It was a loophole in the Law, but it was legal nonetheless. And because it was legal, Moira would face no retribution for living there permanently, even though it was technically close enough to another Alpha's Territory as to assume it was a Declaration of Intent, which basically meant the intent to start a Territory War.

 

Eventually she had designs to take over all of Allegheny County as well, but she needed to build up a support base and a pack before that happened.

 

Therefore, seeing his poorly disguised fury was particularly satisfying, especially since Annalia had confided that he was going to Claim the Heights as his territory, something he couldn't do without inciting Miles McMurphy's wrath. Like a foreign embassy, those homes were considered the property of whichever Alpha owned them, and the area around it neutral. Several Alpha's had had homes in the Heights before selling for whatever reason. Miles was the only one left, and when he'd died without an heir it seemed like no one would inherit. Then along came Moira, who very happily messed up Baron Wolfgang's plans.

 

“It's... a pleasure to meet you, Alpha Albrecht. Please, enjoy the party,” Wolfgang said, not so discretely hurrying away from her lest he make a bigger fool of himself. Moira turned back to the Loup's, noticing their amused faces and offered one of her own.

 

After that little display, the night went off without a hitch. The rest of the Alphas and their pack members were very nice, if a little aloof. That probably had something to do with Moira, Annalia and Diederick's personal political acumen more than anything.

 

By far, Annalia and Baron Wolfgang were the most powerful Alphas west of State College physically, with both having quite a large and varied amount of members. Politically, however, Annalia and Moira had quite a bit more power due to their heritage.

 

The Loup's and the Commefou's were very prominent shifter families in France, somewhat akin to Royalty. Annalia's grandfather Pierre was a younger son of the main line of Loup's who'd come to America seeking new fortunes. He'd risen to Alpha when a local wolf had become jealous of his presence and the deference shown to him by the other wolves, despite his only being a beta, and attacked him. Obviously, Pierre had won, and started his own pack which quickly rose to prominence on the eastern seaboard.

 

Annalia had met Diederick Commefou while attending the wedding of a cousin in France. He was a younger son of a branch family, so when her wolf identified him as a potential mate, neither family had had any problem with a union if it came to it. They were actually quite thrilled, because the Commefou's and Loup's hadn't intermarried in centuries, and the union, while not of the main line, was celebrated.

 

On the other hand, the Albrecht's were a very prominent but somewhat secluded shifter pack in Germany. After a mysterious attack that nearly decimated the family in the 1600's, their paranoia had grown to very high levels which lead to the pack nearly stagnating especially in the last century with the wars. If it weren't for Moira's ancestor leaving, the family would probably have wasted away into either obscurity or died out from inbreeding. The act of her ancestor, Archibald Albrecht, leaving had spurred his older brother, Josef, to go out and see the world.

 

What he'd discovered was a large amount of shifters displaced and disorganized from WWI. Bringing them into the family was what catapulted them back into the upper echelons of shifter society. Because of their tendency to seclude themselves, however, the family hadn't spread to many other countries like the Loup's did. They tended to stay around the area of Germany, with some in Austria, Luxembourg and some in Eastern Europe and the Scandinavian countries. Therefore, while Annalia had cousins spread from Maine to Florida and all over Eurasia, the Albrecht's did not have a foothold in the Americas. Until Moira, that is.

 

The other Alphas were not very politically inclined, which was another reason for their aloofness. They were content with their businesses and their small but cohesive packs. It was commendable, but ultimately not something Moira would ever consider.

 

When they left for the night, bidding polite goodbyes to their host and the other Alphas, Moira turned to Annalia and said, “One more thing before we leave, I was wondering if you could send me any information you have on packs in LA? If there are any, that is. I was planning on flying my family out there sometime after New Year's to go shopping.”

 

She was slightly concerned when Annalia blankly stared at her for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. The other's, including David, were also very amused but didn't say anything. Annalia quickly calmed herself before saying, “Yeah, yes, I'll send you everything I know about the packs out that way,” before walking away, occasionally chuckling to herself. Moira turned confused eyes to David, but he just shook his head with a smile before leading her to the car.

 

When they arrived back at the hotel, Moira noticed that the room smelled of strange men and all of her boxes, full of the stuff she was moving to the Heights house that David had insisted she bring, were gone. Before she could work herself into a rage, David said, “Relax, I just had some people take your things to your new house. Here, here's a keycard to the room next door. You can stay here tonight. No use going over there now when it's all dark.”

 

He handed her the keycard, which she took with bemusement before bidding him goodnight. Just as she reached her door, she heard her Uncle Davey say, “Oh, there's a continental breakfast too,” which made her chuckle, but also made her extremely glad at least one member of her family knew about her situation and supported her. She was still terrified of the reactions she would get from them whenever she got around to telling them.

 

When she got inside, she realized there was a duffel bag on her bed with a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, an extra set of clothes for tomorrow, and toiletries. There was also her favorite pair of BCBGeneration leather boots beside the bed. She made a mental note to find out who put these here and send them a gift basket or something.

 

Slipping off her shoes and unzipping her dress, she traipsed into the standard hotel bathroom with her toothbrush and face wash. After hanging up her dress, she did her nightly routine before returning to the bedroom. She turned down the bed, grabbed her phone and phone charger, and climbed in. She fell asleep that night with odd dreams about a desert and a baby.

 

 

_And all the light that you possess, is skewed by lakes and seas~_

 

_November 1st, 2014-_

 

The next morning dawned bright and early. Moira practically jumped out of bed to get the day started. She hopped in the shower after doing her morning ablutions, going through the motions while her mind was far away.

 

She'd only seen the Heights House in pictures, so she knew vaguely what to expect. The Colonial style house had 7 bedrooms, 6 ½ baths, a pool, a gigantic kitchen, a family room, and a den. It was all decorated in outdated furnishings, but the woodwork was incredible and the architecture was beautiful. She'd have to hire an interior decorator soon.

 

Moira got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed in the provided black Paige Edmont jeans, vest top, black and white plaid button up, and her boots. She put on a black knit infinity scarf and silver studded black knit beret, stuffing her fingerless leather driving gloves into her Chanel backpack purse and packing her dirty clothes into the duffel. She had timed it so when she was ready, Uncle Davey would be just walking out the door. She smiled brightly at him, hitched her purse over her shoulders and followed him into the elevator.

 

The continental breakfast was disgusting. Moira ended up getting a fruit cup because she could actually smell the foul chemicals in all of the food. Even the fruit cup was tainted, but she pushed through by sheer force of will. She hadn't noticed how gross she now found a lot of food as her aunt and uncle had a tendency to eat healthy, and since she'd started buying the meat, there hadn't been any processed foodstuff in the house. She wrinkled her nose at David, happily munching on bacon that contained very little, if any, actual bacon in it.

 

When they were done, David gestured her out towards the parking lot.

 

“All of our stuff is already in the car,” he said with a mysterious smile. Moira let him have his moment, having noticed the two suit-clad men carrying their things out a half hour ago.

 

“What is it that you do exactly? I can't imagine a grunt would have minions like you do,” she joked, smirking at his eyeroll.

 

“That's classified,” he said blandly, but by the way his heart jumped, she knew it was a lie.

 

“Liar liar pants on fire!” Moira sang out, using overly dramatic jazz hands to illustrate her point. David side-eyed her, looking slightly concerned for her mental health, before getting in the car. “They gave you claws and fangs and millions of dollars?”

 

Moira fake-pouted, crossing her arms petulantly over her seat-belt. “I'll have you know that I am the picture of sophistication and maturity. I'm just really excited to see the house.”

 

They chatted idly on the 15 minute drive, the GPS droning in the background every once in a while. Finally, the reached the long drive and turned onto it. It took about a minute for them to reach the house, and Moira was very impressed.

 

The exterior was a brown and gray stone with a terra cotta colored tile roof. White columns held up the front porch roof, while the front porch itself was wide with dark wood flooring. The drive came up beside the house, leading to a covered side entrance and continued back to an ivy covered stone garage. From there, you could see the back courtyard, the covered pool, and pool house, all covered with fallen leaves that hadn't been cleaned up yet. David didn't bother to pull back that far, stopping just outside the side entrance. Moira leaped from the car as soon as it was in park, forgoing the side entrance. She wanted to see what guests would see when they came in through the front door.

 

The entrance hall was just as beautiful as she thought it'd be. It was completely paneled in wood with wood flooring. Moira didn't like the decorations, already thinking about what she'd like to replace them with. It continued this way throughout the house: Moira absolutely loving the architecture but hating the décor. Unfortunately, the master bedroom was one of the ugliest in the house; she didn't know what possessed McMurphy to have floral print everywhere, but the master bathroom more than made up for it.

 

Since the master bedroom and bathroom were in the attic, the ceilings were vaulted, leading to a fairly open floor plan. Off to one side, a small door led into a huge walk in closet with enough room for 4 people's clothes. The carpeting was ugly, but underneath it the wood flooring was in good shape. There was a stone fireplace on one side with room for a small sitting area in front of it.

 

Beyond there, a door led into an absolutely massive bathroom. The white marble tub was as large as a king-sized bed, with white columns attached to the ceiling like a four-poster bed. There was a his-hers white marble topped vanity to the right side, and on the left, continuing the marble theme, there was a rainfall shower cubicle. All of the fixtures were gold plated, glinting off of the light. It was like heaven.

 

All of her boxes had been moved up here, set by the closet door. It was slightly creepy, and it annoyed Moira's wolf that strange men had been in her territory without her permission. The house also faintly smelled of the McMurphy family, though it was dulled, as if it'd been a long while since they'd been here. Well, after the interior designer came, she planned to change that!

 

Thankfully, all of the utilities were turned on, including wifi and DirecTv or she'd have gone insane. She plugged in her laptop in the office downstairs, synced it to the printer, and started searching for interior designers while David roamed around, poking and prodding at various things.

 

“Hey Moira, have you seen some of these books? This must've been part of his private collection,” he said as he was browsing some old, leather bound books on the shelves in the office. She got up, coming over to look. Picking one up, she started reading through it, eyes widening in recognition.

 

“This book's a treatise on the _Homo felinus_ subspecies _Homo panthera onca_ , or the werejaguar,” she said in awe. It was an old book, handwritten and dated in the 1830's.

 

“This one's about werelions,” David said, equally awed. They both looked at the books with a new light.

 

“I have to find out if the other houses have these as well,” Moira decided. “Do you know how valuable this information is? It can't just lay around like it's been for who knows how long.”

 

“No way,” David breathed, having picked up another of the books.

  
“What is it?” Moira asked curiously, peeking over his shoulder. “'The Originals and Their History: As Told By A Childe by Monroe McMurphy, 1598.' Who're the Originals? And what's a childe?”

 

“Vampires. The Original Vampire Family. A childe in this case would mean a vampire personally created by one of the Originals,” David said, still stunned. Moira was intrigued because vampires? Seriously? But she had bigger things to worry about right now. Besides, only the title was written in English, the rest of it was in Gaelic, which she decidedly did not know.

 

Going back to her computer, she printed out the list she'd come up with. After calling around and settling on one to come in one week, she hung up, surprised to see her Uncle Davey still enthralled with the book in his hands, now sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the corner.

 

“You read Gaelic?” Moira asked, bemused. “I speak and read several languages,” he replied vaguely, flipping the page. Rolling her eyes, she pulled up the number of a local pizza place that delivered, rattling off her address before hanging up. Seeing that David was still immersed, she went upstairs to start unpacking. A lot of these clothes would be given away because they no longer fit or to make room for the new wardrobe she was surely going to be getting sometime soon.

 

_November 6th, 2014_

 

Tonight was the full moon, the first one since she'd been turned. She'd woken up way too early today, the feeling of _something_ in the air keeping her from sleeping later. She'd made a cup of soothing herbal tea which did nothing, gone for a run which only seemed to make her more hyper, sat down and tried to read one of the large tomes in her library which only succeeded in making her frustrated because she read a single line 8 times before giving up.

 

Uncle Dave was highly amused at her predicament. Moira knew that she'd been (over)confident the last month about her control, but right now she felt like she'd go _insane_. His knowing little smirk only irritated her more, so she hopped in her car with her overnight bag, speeding off towards Washington. Annalia would know what to do.

 

Apparently, Annalia was a sadist. Her idea of working off the full moon jitters was to spar, so she'd set Moira up with a 30-something werecheetah named Margo. She'd started off by testing Moira's skill, harshly, before settling down and teaching her a little. The woman seemed pleased that Moira was a quick study, ending the session with another spar, which wasn't as humiliating as the first one.

 

When the full moon came around, though, Moira was instantly glad that the Loup's compound was exactly that; a completely fenced area with 20 foot high electrified metal walls and enough security to make the President jealous. She'd initially argued with Annalia about keeping her confined from the rest of the Loup pack, but she saw now what a good idea it was.

 

She went crazy for the first hour, Annalia later told her. Annalia had tried to get her under control by using her family's mantra- _vivre, combattre, mourir,_ but it didn't help at all. It wasn't until Annalia had her pinned on the ground, snarling and thrashing, to find the words that calmed her down, the same words she'd used a month ago on the beach when her aunt had annoyed her- 'Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. '

 

Annalia had made her keep repeating it over and over until she'd finally reverted back to human form. She'd limped back to the house, supported by Annalia, only to collapse on the first available seat she could find, bruised and bloody. There was an important lesson in humility to be learned here, and it was a hard pill to swallow for Moira, who had been convinced she was invincible ever since getting the Bite.

 

_November 8th, 2014_

 

Today was Moira's brother Shiloah's birthday. Since the interior decorator and her team had kicked her and Uncle Dave out earlier this morning, Moira had spent the past 3 hours scouring all over for a present he'd like. She'd been dead tired yesterday from the full moon and the beatdown she'd received, so now she only had 3 hours left before she had to be at his mother's house for his party. Uncle Dave was watching, highly amused, as she nearly tore her hair out in frustration. A watch wouldn't work, she didn't know what style of clothes he liked, and he'd gotten over his fascination with birds like 3 years ago. What the hell could she get him?  
  
“Why not get him a car?” David asked, mostly sarcastic, and groaned as a light lit up in Moira's eyes. “Yes! That's perfect! Actually, I think I'll get everyone cars for their birthday!”

 

The car salesman was bewildered when the young woman dressed in designer clothes practically stormed into the dealership and demanded he show her all of their compact cars.

 

She ended up getting him a nice silver 2014 BMW 320i sedan with a black leather interior. She drove off the lot $43,000 lighter, but she couldn't wait to see the look on his mother's face when she tossed him the keys.

 

It was delightful. Shiloah nearly cried tears of joy, while Isley looked excited to get her own, and their mother looked like she'd sucked on a lemon.

 

“Only one condition, Shy, and she's yours,” Moira said with a smirk, before leaning in. “You change your last name from Cutling-Albrecht to just Albrecht.”  
  
“Done,” was all he said, making grabby hands for the keys. She chuckled and handed them over, accepted his crushing hug, and watched him and Isley go to circle it reverently.

 

“Why did you do that? You must know he can't afford to pay for it,” Tara, their mother, snidely said. Moira blinked innocently at her once with a sweet smile before saying, “Oh, didn't you know? I won the lottery,” she lied. The expression on the harpy's face was beautiful.

 

That week they stayed at a hotel, as the decorators wouldn't be done with the massive house for a few days. When she went home, she was very much pleased at the work the decorators had done. Everything was now more modern, but still extremely classy. She nearly cried when she saw her bedroom, which was bathed in golds and greens and was truly beautiful. Her bathroom was absolutely gorgeous as well, with shimmering gold and black drapes and a black and gold chaise lounge against one wall.

 

Uncle Davey was pleased with his room as well, done in masculine browns and greens with a plush brown carpet underneath the four-poster bed. “You planning on moving in permanently or what?” Moira joked, watching him unpack a couple of boxes that had come out of nowhere. “Yup,” he replied cheerily. “I got a good job offer at the FBI Field Office in Pittsburgh, and this house is big enough for the two of us.” Moira just shrugged, because honestly, she thought the house was too big for just one person. Now to convince Emilia and Micah to move in...

 

_The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe~_

 

_November 13th, 2014~_

 

Moira struggled to contain her fear. Her wrists ached from where they were chained to the wall, chafing and bleeding from some viscous mixture of wolfsbane that the shackles were coated in. She didn't know how long they'd been here, all she knew was that most of her family was locked in a cage in the corner, forced to watch as she was tortured by insane hunters that were convinced she was raising an army to do something nefarious with. She grit her teeth in pain as an electric current flowed through her body and she clenched her fists, determined not to let her family find out what she was like this.

 

_Earlier-_

 

_Moira smiled as she got out of the car, waving as her nephew came running towards her. They were all meeting up at a place that catered to kids that Elias and Novalee loved. She was just about to scoop him up when several large black vans screeched to a halt, surrounding them. Immediately Moira placed herself in between Elias and the closest van but could do nothing more than open her mouth when she was hit with a dart of some kind that instantly knocked her out._

 

“Show them, demon! Show the people you've been deceiving into thinking you're their family what you really are!” Yelled the leader, pushing the modified stun gun into her flank. She let out a loud yell, the first sound that she'd made since she'd been captured. Elias gave out a frightened wail and Moira did her best to keep from shifting at the sound of one of her pack in distress. The hunter growled in frustration, stalking over to the cage and unlocking it before ripping the door open and grabbing Elias by the arm, pointing his gun at Emilia's head when she lurched forwards to try and stop him. He didn't get more than three steps away when two things happened in quick succession- one, Uncle Dave burst into the room with two other men, shouting at the hunters to drop their weapons and get on the ground and two, Moira found a hidden well of rage inside of her at Elias' rough handling and ripped out of the shackles, grabbing onto the young boy and flinging the hunter into the concrete wall hard enough to break bone. She swept Elias up into her arms and he clung to her, not even frightened at her shifted face before she was tackled by both Emilia and Micah holding onto her and Elias while babbling about having known what was going on with her for a while now and thanking her for saving Elias.

 

The background noise faded out as Moira breathed in their scents, calming and grounding her enough that she stopped the unconscious growl that was rumbling in her chest anytime one of the agents got too close. A hand on her shoulder made her look up and seeing her dad's face she finally broke down, the pain and fear from the past hours (days?) taking it's toll on her body and mind. She slipped into blessed unconsciousness, only the feeling of her pack and safety allowing her to do so.

 

 

When she woke up again it was morning and she was in her bed. There were other people in the room, the soft murmurs of her family talking and deep breathing indicating that they'd mostly all stayed despite what they'd learned about her yesterday. She'd feared that they would think of her as a monster or worse when they found out, which is why she'd put off telling them as long as she could. Of course events would force her hand on the matter, not even allowing her to choose when and how to do it.

 

Well, as the saying went, make plans and God will laugh at them. If there even was a God, and if she even had the right to think His name after what she'd done.

 

Moira opened her eyes, blinking at the bright rays of sunshine streaming in through her windows. A glance to the side showed Emilia curled up with Elias and Novalee on the bed beside her, one hand stretched out to curl around Moira's bicep in a surprisingly strong grip. Gently Moira pulled her arm away and moved the hand to wrap around Em's children instead. She sat up and five pairs of eyes snapped to her instantly, roving over her figure to assess her injuries or lack-thereof. Werewolf healing really was a blessing.

 

Nanna Anna stood up from her seat in the dark green armchair, sitting down on the edge of the bed while Moira watched her, sad and a little bit wary. All Anna did was brush a hand across her forehead, the now familiar feeling of _something_ sliding over her senses. Annalia had told her this happened with any supernatural, that feeling of kinship to something _other_ when they met. It hadn't explained why she felt that with her Nanna but Moira had given up thinking anything in her life was normal the moment she saw her red eyes in the mirror.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Nanna said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she looked over Moira's face. Moira just looked at her, her expression saying everything that she couldn't say, didn't want to put out there and poison the air with her insecurities. “Oh, Moira, I'd never think of you like that.”  
  
“Where's Aunt Meri and Uncle Daniel?” Moira asked pointedly, nodding when Nanna's eyes flicked to the side, her lips pursing in anger. “That's why, Nanna.”  
  
“You know how she is,” her dad said conversationally but Moira could smell the disappointment curling through his scent. “Anytime her worldview is knocked around she becomes hysterical and unable to cope. Dan said to give her some time. She loves you but she can't fit this new facet of information into her perfect world.”

 

Moira closed her eyes and breathed, the scent of pack washing over her and calming her hurt. These ones, at least, accepted her for who and what she was. She wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

“Who all knows?” She asked, almost dreading the answer and sighing when Theo said, “Everyone, honey. Your mum was beside herself with worry, having sensed that something was wrong. We had to tell her. She's waiting anxiously to talk to you.”

 

“I'll talk to her when I talk to everyone else. Thanksgiving. You have to let me have time to prepare, okay?” Moira said, fingers picking at the comforter in worry.

 

“You have all the time in the world, sweetie. We'll let everyone know to give you space, alright?” Nanna said, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the forehead before wrapping her in a bone crushing hug.

 

“Thank you,” Moira whispered, wrapping her arms around the elderly woman and just breathing past her panic and sadness.

 

 

_November 27th, 2014- Thanksgiving_

 

Moira had insisted that Thanksgiving be held at her house this year. She'd gotten up early, handed Uncle Dave a shopping list and kicked him out of the house. By the time he returned, she'd already decorated the entire first floor with fall themed items and candles. She practically mauled him when he walked in the side entrance near the kitchen, taking every bag out of his hands easily before handing him another list of outside work to do. He sighed and complied with only a few grumbles.

 

This year, because there were so many people coming, there were 2 nice-sized turkeys. Moira prepared them her favorite way- poultry herb butter rubbed on the outside with quartered lemons, oranges, and an onion inside in a roasting bag with 2 cups of water. Turkeys out of the way, she once again ventured through the house to check that Mr. Meow hadn't knocked anything over or accidentally caught himself on fire (he was a neurotic black and white Persian who was known to do stuff like that).

 

Satisfied, she checked on Uncle Dave's progress to find he'd already swept the front porch, hung up the autumn wreaths and set out the pumpkins, and was working on sucking up all of the leaves in the front yard. They'd leafblowered the patio and pool area yesterday so that was already done. Happy that everything was going to plan, she went upstairs to shower and change.

 

An hour later she emerged from her room dressed in the outfit she'd bought specifically for this occasion. It was a brown pleated silk calf-length dress with an embroidered cream bodice, a long golden cardigan, and over-the-knee brown leather riding boots. Her hair was down and curled with a golden fern headband holding back her bangs. She had hanging vine shaped earrings, a golden leaf and bronze arrow cuff bracelets and matching golden rings.

 

When she got to the kitchen, she laid the cardigan over the back of a barstool and started taking out the ingredients for her freshly homemade apple and pumpkin pies and green bean casserole. She was just starting them when Uncle Dave walked in, greeting her as he went upstairs to get changed.

 

When he came back downstairs, she was just putting the finishing touches on the pumpkin pie and was about to start the green bean casserole. She immediately put him on mashed potato duty, waving him towards the two giant pots of boiling potatoes. They finished around the same time, with Moira asking him to set up the serving tables and telling him that the brown and bronze table linens were in the washroom.

 

Moira was supremely glad that the house came with double stacked ovens like Paula Deen had. Each oven held a turkey with enough rack space underneath for the casserole dish and both pies.

 

20 minutes later, the pies were done and her dad had arrived. Uncle Dave answered the door and ushered him in, taking his coat and hanging it up. Moira was still in the kitchen, transferring everything to the golden serving dishes she'd bought.

 

“Hey sweetheart,” Theo said as he walked in. “Hey dad,” Moira said, smiling at him in relief. “Everything good?”

 

“Of course,” he said, “you've really got a beautiful place. I didn't get to appreciate it as much the last time I was here.”  
  
“Thanks,” Moira said with a smile.

 

People continued to trickle in after that, Moira's mother coming with the four kids, then Nanna and Pappa, Emilia, Micah, Elias and Novalee pulling up in 2 cars. Shiloah and Isley showed up about 5 minutes later in his new car, Amanda pulling up a minute later. Her aunt and uncle were the last ones there, looking surprised and impressed at the house but a little wary all the same.

 

“Hey guys, let me get your coats. The dining room and den are down the hall on the left and right respectively, and there's appetizers and drinks if you want,” Moira said with a small smile, completely unprepared for the bone-crushing hug she got from her aunt.

 

“I'm so sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to freak out. I was just surprised and confused is all,” Meredith said tearfully, Daniel putting his hand on her shoulder in support. Now that she was so close to her aunt, Moira could faintly smell... something, like clouds maybe? She'd never noticed it on her aunt before, only on her Nanna but it intrigued and concerned her. Pushing the thought away, she hugged her aunt back. “It's alright, I know it's a shock. How do you think I felt?” Moira replied, pulling back to look at her properly. “Come on, everyone's waiting on you two! Don't want the food to get cold.”

 

Dinner that night was nice, compared to some family dinners over the years. The turkey was all practically gone which saddened Uncle Dave especially, because turkey leftovers were the best. Before anyone could get up from the table, Moira clinked her knife against her wineglass (judiciously sprinkled with the wolfsbane extract she'd been experimenting with; it was stronger than the powder).

 

“Can I have everyone's attention please? I promise that I don't have anymore life altering news, just a few things to say. First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for coming today. It really means a lot to me and Uncle Dave that you could join us here. Secondly, I have a gift for Aunt Meri for her birthday,” she said, pulling out a manila envelope and passing it down the table to her. She took it curiously, opening the tab and upending it. A set of keys plopped into her hand, which she stared at wide-eyed. Reaching back into the envelope, she pulled out several sheets of paper, eyes widening as she read them all.

 

“You got me a brand new ML400 and bought and paid off all of our debts,” she whispered, Daniel's eyes widening and reading the papers over her shoulder.

  
“Thanksgiving is a time for giving thanks, and I wanted to thank you for everything you've ever done for me. I know that when you took me in we thought it was going to be for a year, because no one could ever anticipate something like this happening, but I wanted to thank you anyway,” Moira said before continuing. “You're all not only my family, you're my pack. Pack means everything to a shifter; a pack only works by utilizing and recognizing every member's strengths and weaknesses. A pack is an anchor for a wolf, one that keeps them from going feral. The Omega wolves, the lone wolves, they never last long before becoming violent and going insane and having to be put down either by shifters themselves or from hunters for the safety of everyone. So just the fact that you're all here is keeping me from potentially going crazy, and I just wanted to say that I love you all and thank you.”

 

As Moira finished her heartfelt speech, she felt a sensation she'd never felt before in her chest, like a piece snapping into place. Gasping, she looked around and noticed that everyone in the room also had a hand to their chest in shock and confusion. Concentrating on the feeling, Moira realized she could feel every single person and their well-being at the moment. Some of the bonds were brighter; she could metaphysically see, almost, that the bonds connecting her to her Nanna, her aunt, her mom, her siblings, and her niece and nephew were more tangible. A flare of power swept through her, and she could practically feel herself become stronger. She noticed that her Nanna was sitting up straighter than ever, looking down at her hands in wonder and suddenly knew.

 

“That was the pack bond reacting to my declaring you all pack,” she said, amazed. She'd read about it, of course, but feeling it was a completely different story. “I'll always know where you are and we'll all be able to tell if another of us is in danger now.”

 

It took several minutes before everyone was focused enough to continue talking. “Are there any questions or anything?” Moira asked.

 

“Yeah, I have one,” Emilia said. “I've thought long and hard about this, discussed it multiple times with Micah, but I want the Bite.” There was a shocked silence, cut through only when Shiloah piped up and said, “I do too.”

 

Moira blinked, not really shocked, just unprepared. She looked carefully at them both, judging their sincerity and nodded. “It'll have to be during a time when you have no obligations for at least a week, two weeks tops. Every emotion and sense you have will be heightened, though it will be easier for you two to transition.”  
  
“Why's that?” Micah asked with curiosity, glancing between the three of them. Everyone else was listening intently too.

 

“Well, the only reason that I actually survived the transition in the first place is because the Albrecht's are a prominent pack in Germany. One of our ancestors was born human and stayed human, and now we carry the gene for it. Usually, people only survive the transition before the age of 20, and even then it's not certain. Anytime after and they usually die very painfully. Since myself, Emilia, Shiloah, and Isley carry the gene, we all would have an easier time with the change and at control, too. And no, Isley, you can't get the bite until you turn 18.” Isley pouted as everyone absorbed this, Theo looking absolutely shocked at this tidbit of information.

 

“Well since I'm too old, what can I do then?” Micah asked. Moira smiled at him and said, “You can stay human. Humans are essential to a pack. There are certain things that can harm us that humans are needed to handle. If a wolf is trapped in a circle of mountain ash, a human can break the line so we can get out. For the different types of shifters, there are plants and herbs that can harm us and heal us. Humans are needed to cultivate them to make antidotes and medicines. Usually this is left to the emissary, but since there isn't an overabundance of Druids or Sparks around I haven't found one yet. And since all of us have enhanced physiologies, claws, and fangs, humans can help guard us by using actual weapons. They remind us that, while we have a fierce predator sleeping within us, we're still essentially human as well.”

 

There was a contemplative silence before Uncle Davey clapped his hands. “Okay everyone, who wants a tour?”

 

It turned out Moira didn't even need to convince anyone to move in. Nanna and Pappa fell in love with one of the rooms she'd had designed, as had Emilia and Micah. Shiloah decided that, since he was going to be taking the Bite and was planning on moving out of his mother's house anyway, he'd take one of the rooms, too. There was also a bedroom designed with Elias and Novalee in mind, which made it perfect already. All they needed was their things.

 

“Don't look so down about it, Theo. She thinks I don't know, but she's planning on buying a huge piece of land up here and building a freaking mansion on it that'll house everyone one day,” David said to Moira's dad, who looked shocked, and then delighted.

 

2 weeks later, everything was squared away. Moira had hired people to help everyone pack their essentials, 'Don't pack too many clothes, you'll see why later,' and then pack up Nanna and Pappa's house. She'd bought a large storage unit for all of their furniture that they'd not need but may want in the future, making sure all of the things they wanted to sell were closer to the front. Everyone was settled in, just in time for Emilia and Shiloah to receive the Bite.

 


	4. Chapter 3

_December 8th, 2014_

 

Emilia woke up early today, an electric feeling buzzing through her veins. She knew that everything she had thought she'd known previously was going to change today, and not only because it was her birthday. Rolling over, she pulled Micah into a warm embrace, excited and a little nervous for what was to come.

 

After they were up, dressed, and had collected Novalee and Elias from their room, they went downstairs to find a breakfast of all of Emilia's favorites laid out. Everyone relaxed today, not wanting anything stressful to happen before tonight's events. Lunch was a calm affair, and as it reached dinnertime, the rest of the family arrived. By this time, Shiloah was practically vibrating with nerves, while Emilia clutched Elias tight to her chest, breathing him in with her limited human nose for the last time.

 

Usually, Moira had told Emilia, a human pack member getting the Bite was a huge celebration, with allied packs coming and feasting in their honor. Annalia had told Moira that, as she was building her pack from the ground up right now, those celebrations would come later when other members wanted the Bite. So tonight, while it was just the family Moira had decided to make it almost ritualistic, something to pass on to the future pack members so they would remember their roots.

 

Moira calmly walked down the stairs and motioned for Emilia and Shiloah to follow, the rest of the family trailing in their wake. She was wearing an emerald green Greek-style dress with matching earrings, necklace, and ring, while Shiloah was wearing a white button down and khakis and Emilia was wearing a white goddess-style dress with a bronze and silver halter with a bronze snake-eye ring and flower shaped earrings. All three were barefoot despite the thin layer of snow on the ground outside. The rest of the family were well bundled for protection from the cold.

 

Emilia was freezing from the moment her bare foot stepped into the cold snow. She didn't know if she was shaking from nerves or the frigid weather and suspected that Shiloah couldn't tell either. Moira just seemed unaffected; though that was most likely because werewolves ran hotter than humans. She dutifully followed along behind her older sister, halting when Moira did. Shiloah stepped up beside her, looking as nervous as Emilia.

 

Moira turned around and Emilia could hear her family arrange themselves in a semi-circle around the three, her dad coming up behind her while Uncle Dave stepped up behind Shiloah. The only noise came from their puffing breaths, fog drifting upwards with each exhale.

 

Moira took a deep breath before saying, “Kneel.” She could see Emilia and Shiloah fighting not to grimace as they did so, knees sinking into the snow which immediately started to melt. She walked first over to Emilia, touching her lightly on the cheek. “Do you, Emilia Albrecht, come before me willingly to receive both a gift and a curse? A gift inside of you that will have the strength of ten men, the speed, sight, and nose of the mighty wolf, but a curse in that you'll be hunted by both kin and members of what you once were?”  
  
“I do,” Emilia said and held her arm out in front of her for Moira to grasp.

 

“And do you submit to me as your Alpha, in that you'll defer to me when I ask it of you, follow my directives willingly, provide counsel if you disagree, join with me in the sacred bonds of Pack, and act in my stead when I cannot as my Second?”  
  
“I do,” Emilia replied, bearing her neck in submission and swallowing harshly when she felt Moira raise up her arm.

 

“Then I accept you, Emilia Albrecht, not only as a sister of my blood, but as a member of my Pack. The receiving of this Bite will propel you past what you once were, for good and for bad. Enduring the pain of it will prove not only your willingness, but also your resilience in life changing situations, a quality which we will need in spades in the coming years.”

 

With that, Moira allowed her human visage to melt away, revealing her true face. As gently as she could, she placed Emilia's wrist in her mouth and bit down, piercing skin and tendon and causing blood to well up and flow onto her tongue and down the sides of her mouth. Emilia cried out shortly before taking a deep breath and willing the tears not to fall. The act of it only took a second before Moira was pulling away, taking out the white silk scarf she'd bought just for this occasion and wiping the sides of her mouth off on the very end. Emilia cradled her wrist in front of her as Theo stepped around her, wrapping a bandage around the appendage and tying it off. They sat back to watch as Moira stepped over to her right where Shiloah was kneeling, watching the proceedings with wide eyes before turning frontward to face his oldest sister.

 

“Do you, Shiloah Albrecht, come before me willingly to receive both a gift and a curse? A gift inside of you that will have the strength of ten men, the speed, sight, and nose of the mighty wolf, but a curse in that you'll be hunted by both kin and members of what you once were?”

 

He took a deep breath before nodding, “I do,” and held his arm for her to take.

 

“And do you submit to me as your Alpha, in that you'll defer to me when I ask it of you, follow my directives willingly, provide counsel if you disagree, join with me in the sacred bonds of Pack, protect our interests and parlay with the outside packs to the best of your abilities as my Liaison?”

 

“I do,” he said, shaking as he bared his neck and felt his arm raise up towards her lips.

 

“Then I accept you, Shiloah Albrecht, not only as a brother of my blood, but as a member of my Pack. The receiving of this Bite will propel you past what you once were, for good and for bad. Enduring the pain of it will prove not only your willingness, but also your fortitude in the face of danger, which is a quality a pack cannot do without.”

 

Seeing that he was going to psych himself out, she swiftly brought his wrist to her mouth, biting down quickly but deeply before pulling away. He cried out in alarm, pulling his wrist back as Uncle Dave wrapped a bandage around his wrist and tied it off. Blood had still stained the corners of her lips so she wiped it off on the silk scarf right next to where Emilia's blood was before folding it up.

 

“Rest now, for your body will be going through many changes in the next few hours,” Moira said softly, seeing that Emilia was already sagging back into their dad's arms and Shiloah was starting to get woozy as well. Theo stepped back as Moira scooped Emilia up into her arms, while Uncle Dave did the same to Shiloah. The hushed crowd of family members parted as they walked through, into the house and up to their respective rooms. Theo stayed with Shiloah to monitor him while Micah stayed with Emilia, both promising to call for Moira if anything happened.

 

The next day dawned bright and early. Moira had been restless and worried until around 3 am when both Emilia and Shiloah made the full transition. Their pack bonds pulsed before growing even brighter, sending a shot of power to Moira. If she'd thought that them being human made her feel more powerful, it was nothing in the face of them becoming wolves. She'd dropped off to sleep quickly after that, content that they were fine until the morning.

 

Moira got out of bed, throwing another log onto the fire that'd been burning in the grate for several days now. The house was very large and even with central air it was difficult to heat it entirely, so every fireplace had been lit. She didn't necessarily need it, as her body temperature ran at a steady 99 degrees all of the time, but it was peaceful and nice to look at. She pulled a robe on, treading softly enough down the stairs that she wouldn't wake the other wolves in the house.

 

That's really when it hit her. She took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of _pack_ that now permeated the house, the slightly bitter fresh ground coffee that belonged to Shiloah and the warm hearth that belonged to Emilia. She wondered what she'd smell like to them; Annalia had once said it was almost like how the air smelled after rain, but not quite. Shrugging mentally, she continued down the stairs to make breakfast.

 

Not even 10 minutes after the bacon started Emilia and Micah stumbled into the kitchen, each with a child in one arm, quickly followed by Shiloah. Emilia and Shiloah were wide awake, staring around themselves in awe, sniffing the air periodically and cocking their head to the side at a sound. Moira smirked at them, knowing exactly what they were going through. “You learn to block a lot of the background noises and smells out. Also, you're probably going to have a hard time eating any processed food or some that has a lot of preservatives in it. It's absolutely foul,” she said with a shudder.

 

She set out the bowls and plates of food that were already full, letting them serve themselves. Breakfast was completely informal in the house, basically a free for all before everyone went off to do whatever it was they did during the day. Lunch was semi-organized, with people eating either at the island or the breakfast nook. Dinner was a more formal affair, where everyone was required to follow the hierarchy and rules. That didn't mean it was all conservative, just the part where everyone was served. After that, conversation flowed freely, as long as it didn't get too loud for the sensitive ears of the group.

 

They chatted idly, Shiloah and Emilia asking questions, Micah inputting some of his own, and before long, everyone who lived in the house was there participating. At 9 o'clock, though, Moira clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. “Alright everyone, here's what's going down today. I'm going to be taking Em and Shy into the woods and no one is to follow except Uncle Davey. It'd be dangerous for you, and we already have a place picked out for training. If either of them lose control, I can't guarantee you won't get hurt, so please, stay away.”  
  
They all voiced their agreements, some reluctant like Pappa and Micah, but ultimately they knew it was safer this way. It was hard for the older ones to concede control to their 23 year old daughter or granddaughter, but it made it easier when she used a commanding voice and flashed her eyes at them like she did just now. Something inside of them told them to listen, so they didn't fight it too hard.

 

The days continued like this; wake up, eat breakfast, train, eat lunch in the woods, train, return to the house and get cleaned up, eat dinner, sleep, rinse, repeat. Soon enough Emilia and Shiloah could control themselves very well, even easier and faster than Moira had when she was first bitten. She thought it was because they were only betas and they had an Alpha to help them, along with it being genetic as well.

 

 

_I will bring a mirror, so silver, so exact~_

 

There were a lot of birthdays in December in this pack, with Emilia's on the 8th, Nanna's on the 12th, Theo's on the 17th, and Aislin's on the 25th. They decided to celebrate them all on the 16th with one big party, where Moira gifted Nanna, Theo, and Aislin with cars, along with a grimoire for Aislin, a pack of tarot cards for Nanna, and a new Makarov MP for Theo. Moira's mother and grandmother had looked at her oddly for those gifts, but she'd just smiled a mysterious little smile and accepted her father's enthusiastic hug.

 

Christmas was another big event, with Annalia having invited them out to their compound. They spent Christmas week and New Years there, with a lot of memories (and blackmail) being made.

 

The only problem, which Annalia had told her confidentially, was that Sebastian's wolf recognized Isley strongly as a potential mate, which Moira just knew that Theo would have wolf pup's over.

 

_January 7th, 2015_

 

Moira was just finishing packing the last of her stuff into her suitcase when she heard Isley grumpily stomping up the stairs. She was turning 17 in 6 days and was unhappy for several reasons. One, that she couldn't get the Bite for another year, and two, because Moira was leaving on a trip to visit her holdings in Europe that day and thus would miss her sister's birthday.

 

Isley flopped face down onto the bed, sighing in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as she sunk slightly into the memory foam mattress.

 

“Don't sigh like that. I'll bring you something awesome back from Paris,” Moira muttered, trying to decide between the Louboutins or the Chanel heels. She shrugged and stuffed them both into her suitcase, exhaling at the pout on her sister's face.

  
“We've already discussed this, Isley. You're still too young to leave your mother's and she would freak if she found out,” Moira said, flashing her eyes at the girl who whined and bared her throat in submission. The Alpha sighed, sitting down next to the younger girl before pulling her up into a tight hug.

 

“It's only a week,” she said, patting Isley on the back and pulling away to look at her. “I have to go, Isley. It's been almost 3 months since I took control of the McMurphy empire and the various boards are getting nervous.”  
  
“I know that, doesn't mean I have to like it,” Isley said petulantly, fake pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. Moira laughed, gently pushing at her sister's shoulder.

 

“Come on, kid, I have to say goodbye to everyone else.”

 

The goodbyes took little time as everyone was already aware of what they were to do in her absence. Shiloah had already gone ahead and sent word to the various packs of the cities she'd be visiting, all but the London packs responding in a positive.

 

The first business she visited was Ulv Teknologi in Denmark, an up and coming tech company that McMurphy had bought out and renamed several years ago. They mostly made components but had recently received the go ahead to start production on mp3 players and tablets, as well as several laptop and desktop computers. The board of directors were mostly affable people, only 1 or 2 who had a problem with her taking control, though that was mostly due to her age and inexperience in this field.

 

This trend seemed to follow her through the rest of her trip, from Varg Pharma in Sweden to Wilkson Insurance in Poland, Lupor Motore in Italy and Loboratory, a highly successful nightclub in Madrid. Despite her travel route she'd put off the last company for the end, already knowing that she'd have more than one issue to deal with when it came for her final stop in Germany.

 

Vollmond Waffenkamer was a wholesale weapons distributor and therefore kept under close watch by not only the German Government but the U.N. as well. They supplied weaponry for pretty much every police force in Germany, Austria, Belgium and Luxembourg, as well as a minimal contract to the German Army for ammunition. It was by far one of the most lucrative businesses she owned, pulling in more than $15 million last quarter alone.

 

It also had one of her distant cousins, Gunter Albrecht, on it's board. There was a 75% chance that he'd extend an offer from his Alpha for a meet and greet and Moira didn't know how that would go, exactly, as the Albrechts were still a pretty reclusive and private pack.

 

As she had predicted, Gunter had extended an invitation for dinner at his Alpha's estate for 7 that evening. It was semi-formal, as all meetings between Alpha's like this tended to be. She wore a simple black Chanel cocktail dress and her black Louboutins, with a choker necklace that Annalia had gifted her for Christmas that had her pack's personal symbol on it- a triskele made of emeralds with a golden background on a black silk band. Uncle Dave, her escort for the night, had on a black Armani suit, the only difference from his other one being the same crest embroidered on his jacket pocket.

 

Their driver drove them southwest out of Berlin towards Potsdam for about 15 minutes before exiting off of A115. It was a short drive from the exit to a private driveway. They waited while the gate was opened for them, continuing up the drive for another hour before reaching a literal castle. It was built like it was straight out of the middle ages, with several consecutive walls that you could only pass through by way of an enormous metal gate that Moira had no doubt was electrified when closed.

 

They finally pulled up in front of the castle, where they were escorted by a butler into the castle proper. They were promptly led to a formal living room, where the Alpha was waiting with her family.

 

“Guten abend, Alpha von Albrecht. Mein name ist Moira Albrecht, Alpha Albrecht von Butler County, Pennsylvania,” Moira said, curtseying slightly in deference to the older and more powerful Alpha. Here she wasn't Alpha Moira of Albrecht territory, she was a relative unknown. This Alpha didn't have any hold over her, especially with how removed she was from their bloodline, even more than a branch family.

 

“Peace, Alpha Albrecht. You are welcome in my home as a guest,” The Alpha, Clarimonde Albrecht, said in only slightly accented English. Moira nodded her head, clasping forearms with the wolf. She stepped back beside Uncle Dave, saying, “My cousin, Special Agent David Kowalski of the Federal Borough of Investigation.”

 

“I am Alpha Clarimonde von Albrecht. This is my mate, Kostya Mesiace, my Second, Greta von Albrecht, her mate Ferdinand Behrer, my Successor, Kaethe von Albrecht, and her future Second, Isolde von Albrecht. Welcome to our den.”

 

Following the introductions, they sat down to an actually very pleasant dinner. There had been some questions about her plans and such, but they were nothing but welcoming to her. When it was time to go, Clarimonde pulled Moira aside for a quiet word in her soundproofed study.

 

“I have to say that I am glad that the Albrecht name has stretched outside of our isolated borders. Even though you were quite an unexpected surprise, you carry our name well. You will undoubtedly find yourself an ally with my youngest son, who will be beyond pleased that he will not have to be sent out next year to try to find an American mate. The time for our isolation is coming to an end, and there have been whispers that something will be happening soon. Good luck and Godspeed, Moira von Albrecht.”

 

_So precise and so pristine, a perfect pane of glass~_

 

_January 12th, 2014_

 

They landed in Heatherow at 8 am local time, disembarking quickly from the plane so it could refuel and do maintenance while they waited. It would take several hours, so Moira decided that instead of sitting in the VIP lounge all day that she would go explore. The terminals were crowded with people and intermingling scents, so she didn't notice that she was being tailed until she was poking around in a souvenir shop.

 

As soon as the man cleared his throat politely, Moira caught the strong smell of werecheetah. Slowly, she turned on her heel and blinked in shock. Standing before her, in all of his glory, was Benedict Cumberbatch.

 

Realistically, she should have realized that somewhere out there a well-known figure would potentially be something supernatural- there was no way Keanu Reeves wasn't a vampire- but never had she expected to actually meet them. So this random airport meeting threw her off guard for a moment, just staring, before she realized that he was probably becoming uncomfortable.

 

“Um...hello?” She said cautiously, confused and mildly concerned that he was approaching her in this way. The airport was crowded, of course, so he wouldn't risk trying to kill or maim her, but she'd made sure that all of the local packs around every airport they'd passed through on the way home had gotten the message that she'd be flying through.

 

“May we speak, privately?” He asked, casting an eye around the immediate vicinity. Having been stood there for a few minutes, there were people who'd caught sight of him and were now pointing and whispering, some trying to discreetly pull out their cell phones and cameras.

 

“Sure,” she slowly said, looking at him closely for a second before nodding. “Follow me.”  
  
She lead the way to the VIP lounge, which was thankfully empty of everyone except Uncle Dave, looking intrigued by the tome he was reading. It was one of the books found in the Height's House, a thick one apparently about the now extinct Nemean Lions, a warrior tribe of werelion that were all capable of the full shift and reportedly had great prophetic powers. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at the two of them but ultimately elected to ignore them, though Moira knew it was just for show and he would be listening very closely.

 

Benedict eyed him warily for a second before seemingly convinced of his disinterest before looking back at Moira. She sat down on one of the extremely comfortable armchairs, waving at the one across from her in invitation. He gracefully sat down, examining her for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision.

 

“As you might know, I'm Benedict Cumberbatch, heir of the Carlton pack of London. I'm surprised by your presence here in my country because we were given no notice of your arrival,” he said primly, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. For her part, Moira was flummoxed. She discretely cast her eyes at David, who nodded his head at her silent question.

 

“I made sure to send word ahead of my arrival, sometime around 7 o'clock local time here yesterday evening,” she said slowly, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Your liaison didn't reply, but considering that it is merely courtesy to send a message ahead, I didn't think it was odd. Every other pack in London I'd sent the messages to didn't reply, either.”

 

As she spoke, she watched the emotions running over his face, from disapproving, to confusion, to concern, and finally, to horror. “Oh, God,” he breathed out, fumbling at his pockets for his phone. He started breathing heavier and the skin around his eyes and mouth started to ripple, orange-brown fur with the beginnings of black markings starting to form. Black appeared at the inside corners of his eyes, slowly bleeding down to to end of his nose like tear tracks. His eyes were flickering from his normal blue to electric green, and long fangs, thinner than a wolf's, were starting to poke out from behind his lips.

 

Sensing that a loss of control was imminent, Moira flashed her eyes and let out a subsonic growl, a tactic that worked well with Emilia and Shiloah when they were having control issues. Almost immediately, his head tipped to the side and a low whine bubbled up from his chest, the markings fading away in the blink of an eye. He looked at her wide eyed, clearly not expecting that, before straightening up. Moira eyed him carefully, making sure that he wasn't about to freak out again, before nodding.

 

“I didn't have a chance to introduce myself. My name's Alpha Moira Albrecht,” she said, not offering a hand because he wasn't an Alpha. It was extremely rude to get your scent on a shifter that wasn't an Alpha before you met their Alpha, especially an heir like Benedict was. That's why Alpha's clasped forearms; because the wrists held a scent gland, when Alpha's greeted each other, they each scented the other slightly.

 

His eyes widened slightly, looking at her anew. He opened his mouth, starting to say something, before closing it and swallowing roughly. He was still panicked and afraid, the acrid scents wafting off of him like a wave, making Moira start to get genuinely concerned.

 

“Is there something wrong?” She said quietly, noticing that Uncle Dave was listening intently, having pulled out his phone at one point and was typing something into it. Benedict looked closely at her again, slowly reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He quickly pushed a button on his speed dial, holding the phone up to his ear with an intent look on his face. Moira could hear a single ring before it went straight to voicemail.

 

“You've reached the answering machine of Luke Windsor, publicist. If you could leave your name and number, I will contact you at the earliest time possible. Thank you,” it said, beeping loudly at the end. Benedict's eyes had closed, pained, and he took a deep breath in and out before he said, “Yes, I suspect that there is a problem.”  
  
Uncle Dave stood up then, tucking the tome into his bag before coming around to stand beside her. Benedict looked at him warily, but Moira smiled and said, “This is my cousin, David Kowalski. He's an FBI agent. Whatever it is, I'm sure that we can help somehow.” Benedict blinked, surprised, before nodding.

 

“Can you tell us what's wrong? Anything you can think of will help,” Uncle Dave said as he sat down on the arm of her chair, pushing record on his phone to start capturing video.

 

Clearing his throat and leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, Benedict said, “Two weeks ago, the liaison to pack Llelwyn, Alec Forsyth, disappeared out of thin air. His home in Cardiff was intact with no foreign scents, knocked over furniture, or a forced open door. Several days later, his Alpha reported that the pack bond between them had severed. His body hasn't been found. Exactly one week later, the same thing happened to the liaison of pack Gillian, Harold Smithe. Yesterday was exactly one week after that and now Luke, our liaison, is missing as well, and we have no idea what is going on. We'd posted guards at Luke's apartment building and they reported this morning that all was fine, no disturbances whatsoever all night.”

 

By now, both David and Moira were frowning. That would certainly explain why Benedict wasn't aware that they were going to be passing through, but how on Earth hadn't anyone heard him being taken? Suddenly, a thought occurred to Moira.

 

“Mr. Cumberbatch, what exactly is the shifter population of Great Britain comprised of?” She said, watching as he seemed to be jerked out of his own thoughts by her question. He blinked, a little bemused, before replying, “Well, we're primarily cats here, to be honest. The three common packs are mainly leopard, cheetah, and panthers, with several jaguars, lions, and tigers thrown in. There was one Omega wolf, an American boy named Jackson, but he never joined a pack. However...,” here, he hesitated, looking slightly unsure about something. Thankfully, Uncle Dave seemed to know exactly why.

 

“However, the Royal Family are all wolves,” he finished for Benedict, prompting an extremely surprised expression to cross his face. It must not be common knowledge, then, but Moira found that highly amusing.

 

“Oh gosh, you're serious?” She managed to get out, snorting inelegantly at the thought. “It's just a bit of a shock, you know.” Ignoring her, Benedict continued.

 

“Yes, the Royal Family are all wolves, but we usually don't interact with them much, as you may know. They mostly leave us alone, especially after they tried to regain power over the shifter population when they became merely figureheads of Great Britain.”

 

“So, there are no wolves in any of the packs that have been affected, then?” Moira asked, nodding when Benedict shook his head negatively. “Well, how about we take a drive to Mr. Windsor's apartment, Mr. Cumberbatch. No offense, but we both know that a wolf's nose is better than a cat's.”

 

“Just call me Ben, please, and I'd have to get permission from my Alpha before I could allow you to do that,” he said apologetically. Moira just waved a hand, standing from her seat. “You can call your Alpha now, Ben, I'm sure this is more important at the moment than politics. Uncle Dave, there are some things in the plane that you'll need, hmm? Why don't you go get them and I'll stay here with Ben. If someone or something's going after the liaisons, how do we know that the heirs aren't next?”

 

Both men blinked at her, before David nodded and left with nary a word. Ben hesitated for a second before dialing a number and walking over to a corner, even though both knew that there was no privacy when it came to shifters. Moira walked around the room, eying the door and the plate-glass windows, trying not to listen to Benedict arguing with his mother. Finally, he must have won, because he ended the call with a sigh. Uncle Dave chose that moment to text her that he was ready and a car was waiting.

 

Once they were in the car, heading down the crowded London streets, Moira asked a question that had been nagging at her. “Is there a significant hunter presence here?”

 

Ben nodded, but elaborated, “There is, but we've had no problems with them in decades. Generally we're peaceful, and we police our own ranks harshly. The Mortenson's have a treaty with all of the Alpha's, including their own liaison in Buckingham.” He would've continued, but he got a call just then. Moira could hear every word, and her eyes started to widen right along with Benedict's at what she was hearing.

 

“We're being summoned,” she said to Uncle Dave faintly, his own eyes staying completely calm as he simply nodded. Of course he'd be calm, he'd probably met the Queen before when he was in the Secret Service.

 

20 minutes later, an assuredly short amount of time according to Ben, they arrived at the gates to the palace. Moira, as calmly as she could, fixed her hair and straightened her clothes, a little rumpled from the long flight they'd just been on. This was a surreal situation to find oneself in, she thought, almost like it was straight out of a story.

 

“When they receive us, keep your eyes averted and head slightly bowed. As an American and an Alpha, you owe no fealty to the Queen, but it's mainly out of respect that you don't meet their eyes unless invited,” Ben said quietly as they were lead to a medium sized chamber, most likely where they were to wait until the Queen would call them in. They waited silently, Moira with her eyes closed and breathing deeply and evenly, before a man came in and requested they follow him.

 

Moira kept to Ben's advice when they reached the throne room, head slightly bowed and eyes averted as they were lead up a long isle. When they reached the dais, Ben went down on one knee with his head bowed while Uncle Dave bowed low at the waist. Moira remained standing, back straight and eyes averted before a regal voice said, “You may rise.” Moira waited in silence while Uncle Dave straightened and Ben stood, only then raising her eyes to the front.

 

As expected, the Queen was sitting resplendent on her throne in the center of the dais, Prince Charles to her right while a woman with an aristocratic face, brown hair flecked with gray and blue eyes stood just behind her to the left. Arrayed to her right, beside Prince Charles, was Prince William, Duchess Catherine, heavily pregnant and holding Prince George, and Prince Harry. Beside the mystery woman was a harsh looking woman that smelled of gunpowder and a combination of herbs, mostly ones that were harmful to shifters. Her face was carefully blank, but a combination of disdain and anger was simmering in her eyes.

 

Moira brought her eyes back to the Queen in the center, who was studying her with a contemplative look on her face. “We are sorry that events such as this lead to our first meeting, Alpha Albrecht. We have long enjoyed an amicable relationship with your cousins in Germany,” the Queen finally said, waving slightly towards her. “As you may know, this is Our Second, Charles, Prince of Wales, Our Heir, William, Duke of Cambridge, his mate Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, his Heir, Prince George of Cambridge, and his future Second, Prince Henry of Wales. To Our right is Our Emissary, Sorcha Hastings, and the liaison of the hunter family Mortenson, Iliana Mortenson.”

 

“Your Majesty,” Moira murmured as she nodded her head towards them, curiously looking at the Emissary. Besides the brown hair and blue eyes, the woman did resemble Moira's mother's side of the family. They all had the aristocratic features, though this woman was tall, about 5'8, whereas Moira's family were on the shorter side, with Moira and Aislin coming to 5'3 and Emilia only just barely reaching 5'. Moira noticed that the other woman was studying her as well, a surprised expression on her face.

 

“Forgive me, Alpha Albrecht, but you look remarkably like what my sister, Keagan, did when she was young. It is a little disconcerting,” she said, speaking softly.  
  


“Well, my mother's maiden name is Hastings, perhaps there is some relation?” Moira said, uncertain and slightly alarmed that an unknown facet of her family had been found in Buckingham Palace of all places, which made her wonder just what other secrets her great-grandfather George Hastings had taken to his grave.

 

Getting back to the matter on hand, Moira turned back to the Queen, who looked slightly amused, which concerned Moira even more. “Ma'am, I assume that our presence here has something to do with the disappearances of the local pack liaisons?”

 

“Indeed it does. It was a matter that We were concerned with after We had heard of the disappearance of Harold Smithe. However, We realized this morning that Our own liaison, Mr. Albert Carver, was missing as well. We were prepared to start an inquiry of Our own when word reached Us that Mr. Windsor went missing at approximately the same time, and that Alpha Carlton had agreed to allow you and Agent Kowalski to investigate the matter yourselves. We decided to allow you to do the same for Us, with the further aid of Our agents and resources you may not have had otherwise,” the Queen replied, gesturing towards a servant near one of the walls, who bowed and disappeared out of a hidden door.

 

“Do you have any idea who may be responsible for the disappearances?” Questioned Duchess Kate, bouncing Prince George up and down slightly as he was squirming and reaching for his father. Moira thought for a second how she should reply.

 

“Well, the most obvious suspect would be the hunters,” Moira said, noticing the indignant look cross Iliana's face. “Perhaps not the Mortenson's, as they have a treatise with the packs, but maybe a rogue group or a splinter cell? Whoever it is, they're too organized to be just a regular person who found out about our existence and decided to start offing people.” That slightly mollified the huntress, who still looked vaguely homicidal but was covering it well. Moira didn't know what it was about the woman or if it was just her, but Iliana gave off a sort of righteous vibe, and that pinged on Moira's radar. Whether that was good or bad was hard to tell.

 

“However, before we come to that conclusion, I'd like to visit the victim's homes and see if I can find anything that others may have missed,” she finished with, pleased when the Queen nodded her assent. “We will provide adequate protection for you, of course,” she said, waving her hand at the door the servant had gone out, which opened to admit a squad of seemingly normal people who were armed to the teeth from what Moira could tell.

 

Iliana stepped forward, bowing to the Queen as she said, “Your Majesty, they won't be necessary. We can provide our own, better trained protection for our...guests,” she said, and Moira was suddenly reminded of Baron Wolfgang, all false pleasantry and smarm. How did the Royal Family not notice this? Was it because they were so assured that their station would protect them, even from hunters? Moira couldn't voice this, as she could see it would only be counter-productive to their efforts and may even offend the Queen. She was comforted by the fact that Uncle Dave seemed inclined to the same way of thinking, and even Ben, for who this was the status quo, seemed uneasy about the huntress' offer.

 

“Nonsense, Iliana, these agents have been well trained to deal with supernatural threats,” the Queen said, waving off the woman, who looked shocked. “Why wasn't I informed of this, Your Majesty?” She asked, and the anger was nearly palpable underneath her tone. The Queen seemingly took note of this, as she replied frostily, “It was of no concern to you or your interests, Ms. Mortenson. Your presence here is merely a formality to keep our treatise valid, do not forget that.”

 

Iliana immediately backed off, directing a glare towards Moira like this was her fault. She felt her dislike towards this woman grow. Sketching a shallow bow, Moira gave her thanks to the Queen for her generosity, turning and following who seemed to be a leader. She was shocked when Prince Harry began to follow as well, turning to the Queen in question, who merely smiled and said, “Our grandson will... tag along, as they say, and keep Us informed of your progress.” Moira nodded once, bidding both Uncle Dave and Ben, who both hadn't said a word the entire time, to follow as well.

 

_I will set the mirror~_

 

They were escorted first to Luke Windsor's house, as it seemed he was the one taken last, according to Ben. Prince 'Please for the love of God just call me Harry' Harry had informed them that the last time Carver had been seen was the day before at 5 when he'd gone home, while Luke had had a late lunch meeting that'd run until around 7. Assuming they'd both been taken right as they got home and not in the middle of the night, it was a safe bet that's what happened. Luke also lived in a much less protected highrise than Carver, making it easier for the kidnappers to take him last.

 

When they reached his floor, they were surprised by the person standing outside of his door. Moira was less surprised that that person happened to be Tom Hiddleston, who was, apparently, also a werecheetah. “My sister is going to attack me when I tell her about this,” she said mildly, drawing a very worried Tom Hiddleston's eyes to her. He tried to put on a charming smile, but it just came off as miserable.

 

“Ah, you must be the esteemed Alpha Albrecht. I'm Thomas Hiddleston, it is quite the pleasure to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said with a bow, visibly startling as he realized the identity of Harry. He bowed even lower, a murmured, “Your Highness,” escaping his lips in almost a gasp. Harry, for his part, merely rolled his eyes and said, “Rise.”

 

Moira could see her Uncle Dave getting annoyed with all the pleasantries and politely interrupted, “This is my cousin, Special Agent David Kowalski of the FBI. He's going to help me search Mr. Windsor's apartment, which we should do quickly before any scent-evidence evaporates.”

 

“Of course, of course, here,” Tom said as he pulled out a ring of keys, opening the door. The MI5 agents spread out, some exiting back downstairs to the lobby or other floors to keep an eye out. Tom and Ben stayed at the door, anxiously whispering to each other and watching as Uncle Dave began a methodical sweep of the apartment while Moira did a much slower, more thorough one. The apartment was laid out in a fairly open style, with the only choke-hold being the front entrance hall. Off to the left side was a coat closet which had a jacket smelling the strongest of Luke hanging on the back of the door, most likely the one he'd worn last night. There was an antique cabinet several feet from the door on the right hand side with a bowl for keys on top, as well as an art-noveau type lamp. His keys were in the bowl, smelling faintly of Thai food, and the lamp looked like it had been moved recently judging by the dust pattern on the wood.

 

Moira took note of all of this as she moved on to where the right wall ended, leading into the kitchen. She caught a very faint whiff of gunpowder and herbs, leading her to the wall just around the corner from the front hall. She stuck her nose almost right up against it, inhaling deeply before moving down and doing the same thing. She returned to normal height, getting onto her tiptoes to try and get a scent further up the wall but couldn't manage because she was so short. Scowling, she grabbed a bar stool from the island and set it against the wall, balancing herself on a knee so she could reach a height almost 6 feet off the floor. The scent was stronger here, as no matter how hard you tried to use a scent blocker, your hair always secreted your natural scent.

 

When she turned back towards the hall, Tom and Ben were standing there, looking at her oddly. She let out a sigh, cursing a cat's ability to be completely silent, before she explained, “I got a scent from here. It's very faint, but if I were to meet this person, I'd recognize them. Also, they seem to be a hunter, as there's a very distinct scent of gunpowder and herbs, primarily nightshade, which as you know is a werecat's wolfsbane. I'm thinking that they hid here and ambushed Mr. Windsor while he was still in the front hall, as evidenced by the lamp which had been moved from it's original spot, judging by the dust pattern.” She dropped down onto her stomach, looking at the small space underneath the cabinet and making an 'ah-hah!' sound.

 

“This is what they used to drop him so he didn't make any noise,” she said, holding up a wooden dart with a darker tip. She sniffed both ends, making a face as she continued, “It's from a blow gun, dipped in a highly concentrated form of nightshade and smells like... mint? The tail feathers definitely smell like mint.” Both of the men had grim faces on, glancing at each other before Tom said, “Theron Mortenson is always popping mints whenever any of us sees him. It's a running joke, that he pops mints like a recovering nicotine addict, only it's not because he can't smoke, it's because he can't hunt us thanks to the treaties.”  
  
Moira blinked in bemusement, telling them, “You Brits sure have a morbid sense of humor.” They both just shrugged, unconcerned. Stiff upper lip, indeed. Moira shook her head, refocusing on the problem. “Well, we can't just barge into Buckingham Palace and blame the Mortenson family with only a mint addiction as proof. We need to go to Albert Carver's place and see what we can find.”

 

Thanks to the help of the Crown and a covert agency, it barely took 10 minutes to get to Carver's heavily secured apartment. They found almost the exact same thing, except the tail feathers on this dart smelled like cinnamon gum. Neither men had any insight on this, nor on how the two separate kidnappers had managed to get into either of the apartments as Carver's building had excellent security owing to the fact that it housed several MP's and high caliber businessmen while Windsor's building had been guarded by several pack mates. They also had no idea how the two hadn't heard their attackers, as being a shifter of any type allowed them to hear heartbeats, so no matter how quiet their assailants were being, they still should've been able to hear them before they attacked.

 

“I need to get in contact with someone I never thought I'd want to talk to,” Moira bleakly stated from her seat, squished in between Tom and Ben in the middle seat of the armored SUV. “Who are you talking about?” Tom queried, looking both downtrodden and curious, like a kicked puppy. The expression was mirrored on the other side of her and Moira kind of wanted to wrap them both in wool and feed them sweets until they burst because damn, grown men were not supposed to be able to do that.

 

“I don't want to say anything until I find out if I can actually get the contact info for this person,” she said uneasily, resolutely not looking at either of them because the puppy-eyes had probably been turned up to 10. Fortunately for her sanity, they reached Buckingham Palace just then, where they were quickly ushered into a rather large room with a computer and a large projection screen. Moira raised a brow at Harry, who merely shrugged with a smug expression. How was this her life? Where she was surrounded by insanely attractive Princes and celebrities who just so happened to be supernatural creatures?

 

Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number of a woman she'd never met, but who Annalia had said could be trusted- for the right price.

 

“This is Bennett,” came the mercenaries voice, short and to the point.

 

“How much would the contact information for an individual cost?”

 

“Depends on who the individual is.”

 

“I'll text it to you.”

 

With a click, the line went dead and Moira hurriedly sent the text.

 

A minute later, a figure was sent back to her well into 5 digits as well as a bank account and routing number. Without even pausing to think, she transferred the money and waited. Five minutes later, the woman called back and gave her a phone number, address, Skype name and a password to use to get his attention.

 

Deciding to nip it in the bud, she strode over to the computer, relieved to see that Skype was already set up and the projector program was easy to use.

 

Signing in under a random screen name, she quickly typed in his info, thanking whatever deity was out there that his icon was green. She typed in a message, wanting to at least give him some warning of the impending conversation.

 

_URGENT ASSISTANCE NEEDED- MA_

 

_Who is this?_

 

_HARLEQUIN CLAUDE-MA_

 

Almost immediately, a video call was requested. She pushed answer, backing up so that she was in the frame with Harry, Uncle Dave, Ben, and Tom. The screen loaded quickly, showing a slightly disheveled gray haired man glaring at the screen. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed who, exactly, he was video chatting with before muttering, “Jesus, I have not had enough coffee for this.” He grabbed up a mug, downing the contents before yelling out, “STILES!” There was a crash in the background before a tall, gangly, tattooed teenager appeared on the screen, eyes a kind of wild that you only get from being extremely exhausted. “What?! What'd you find? Wait, who the hell- OH MY GOD, IS THAT TOM HIDDLESTON?!”

 

Moira and her companions looked on with bemused bewilderment as the kid executed an epic flail, crashing to the floor beside the yet-unnamed older man, only the top half of his face popping up over the edge of the desk as he stared wide eyed at the people on the screen. The man had his head in both of his hands, muttering something that vaguely sounded like 'what atrocity did I commit in a past life to deserve this' and shaking his head back and forth. Moira was amused, because all of the things that she'd heard about these people? Did not prepare her for the reality. She cleared her throat loudly, grabbing both of their attentions.

 

“I'm assuming that you're Chris Argent, and your... friend, is, uh, Mieczyslaw? Did I say that right? Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski?” Moira ignored the several gasps of shock from the shifters who didn't know his identity, choosing instead to watch the reactions on screen. The kid, Stiles, looked shocked, probably that someone had actually pronounced his name right, while Argent just nodded his head, giving Stiles an odd, amused look. “I am Chris Argent, yes. As you can see, we're kind of in the middle of a crisis here. Something's been attacking local law enforcement and members of the pack with what seem to be invisible arrows and there's been reports of, as Stiles calls it, 'soldiers of the skeleton war' around here so if you could, possibly, get to the point?”

 

Moira blinked at the bluntness, before something popped into her head from a book she'd read in her library. “Actually, that sounds like a Baykok. Has anyone been attacked with a blunt instrument lately?” Argent looked surprised and taken aback, while the Stiles kid's mouth had dropped open in shock. “Actually...yeah, my dad said that some of his officer's have been hit from behind and they don't know who's been doing it.”

 

Moira nodded before elaborating. “A Baykok is a malignant night spirit of the Chippewa tribe, which was primarily in the Great Lakes region so it's odd that one would turn up that far west. They're basically just skeletons with translucent skin and glowing red eyes, like an Alpha's but brighter, and they only attack warriors, usually killing with their club or invisible arrows. A spear or an arrow, tipped with a hand-carved stone arrowhead soaked in the extract of the bark of the root of sassafras should kill it.”

 

Now everyone in the room was gaping at her in astonishment, causing her to throw up her hands in frustration. “Yes, okay, I read! Can we get back to the reason that I called in the first place? The part where people are dying or going to die soon if we don't figure this out?” Properly chastised, Argent asked, “So, what is so great of a problem that you called me, who can't do very much for you in London, being all the way in California?”

 

Moira took a breath before listing everything that she knew. “Two weeks ago yesterday, the liaison of Pack Llelwyn was kidnapped from his home in Cardiff. Two days later, his Alpha reported that his pack bond had been severed. Exactly one week later, the same happened to Pack Gillian's liaison, and yesterday evening, both of the liaisons for the Crown and Pack Carlton were abducted from their residences by assailants using nightshade soaked darts from a blow gun. We have no idea how they were ambushed in their own homes, but the scent that I picked up seemed to indicate hunters. However, as you know, the local hunter family Mortenson has a treatise with all of the local packs, only intervening when something's getting uncontrollable, which Prince Harry and Benedict both inform me hasn't happened at all in the last decade. What I need to know, is how on earth are they masking their heartbeats to be able to ambush the liaisons, and what, exactly, is their tactic accomplishing? I think we all know what the endgame is, but how they get there is a mystery to us.”

 

Chris was looking progressively grave as he listened to her recounting, abruptly standing up and stalking off camera. Stiles smiled reassuringly at them, before only seconds later Chris appeared back on screen with an old, heavy looking leather bound book. He flipped open to somewhere near the middle, scanning the pages quickly. A noise of triumph was issued when he found what he was looking for.

 

“According to my ancestor, Phillip Argent, around the 1400's on the continent rumors of a secret sect of hunters started cropping up. Generally we're not too conscious about alerting our quarry to our presence. Some call it arrogance, but it's a tactic we use to unnerve them with our confidence. But this sect, more of a religious cult really, they were the literal boogeyman to werewolves at the time. They came at any time of day, appearing out of no where and striking down key members of the packs to send them into disarray. They didn't kill them at first, no, they shot them with monkshood-laced darts from a blow gun to incapacitate them before taking them back to their base and interrogating them for everything they knew about the weaknesses of the pack.

 

They'd start with the runners, first, which was that time's version of liaison. They were messengers, basically, the fastest of the pack who carried messages from Alpha to Alpha. Then, they'd go for the Seconds, taking out the member most knowledgeable in the Laws, history, and politics, then the Mates, and finally, when the Alpha is already very demoralized, they'd take out the Heirs and any children that belonged to the pack, human or no. Lastly, when the pack was scattered and the Alpha either broken from the loss or enraged at the murders of their pack, they would swoop in and lay waste to them all, claiming righteousness because a broken Alpha could not control their pack and an enraged Alpha was a danger to mankind.

 

Because of their actions, they gained themselves a name in both the hunter and shifter communities- _Mort du Loup_. One of the reasons why is because several branches of the Loup family were seemingly wiped out in a matter of days with no explanation of who or how. Phillip Argent suspects that he met several of the members of this hunter cult in a pub, where they'd gotten drunk in celebration and started espousing the opinion that all shifters were unnatural hellspawn and thus needed to die, whether they were killing humans or not. He said they even claimed that the humans who carry the shifter gene in their blood should die because they're 'tainting the blood of Christ' that runs through all humans' veins. From how he writes it, they sound like a Manson-esque type cult. Oh, this is nice, there's an addendum here that says the men in the pub apparently called themselves _'fils de l' ange de la mort,'_ which basically translates to 'sons of the angel of death.'

 

That's not all. Somehow, they found a strain of tetrodotoxin that allows them to remain conscious and mobile while slowing the heart rate down to nearly nothing. When combined with the scent blocker we typically use and a balaclava, that would render them practically invisible to any shifter as long as they can remain still for a period of time, which all of us are trained to do. So, it seems that you're dealing with a secret hunter cult hellbent on the destruction of all shifters. Sounds a lot more fun than a Baykok,” he finished with, extremely sarcastic. Various levels of disbelief were on the faces in the room with Moira, though Moira wasn't disbelieving, she was mad. Furious, even. She could put the pieces together in her head just fine, and the finished puzzle scene she came up with was not pretty.

 

Before she could voice her own suspicions, however, the Queen's voice interrupted them all. “Our pack bond with Albert Carver was severed approximately three minutes ago,” was all she said before turning and walking out the door. Harry grimaced, whether in grief or worry before hurriedly excusing himself after his grandmother. Moira was even more solemn as another piece slotted itself in.

 

“So basically what they're going to do is this: since we've come a long way since the 1400s with communications, they're taking out the liaisons first in a fashion that'll throw the blame for the whole fiasco onto Pack Carlton, making it look like the start of a massive Territory War. It will look extremely suspicious in several days when Luke Windsor is still alive and all of the others are dead, so while we may all have cell phones and computers, everyone will be paranoid and won't contact anyone else in fear they're working in collusion with Pack Carlton.

 

Then, when the Seconds start being targeted, Pack Carlton's will most likely be the first to go, with Prince Charles to be the last, throwing the blame onto them next- after all, the Royal Family are all wolves, while Albert Carver was a cat. Naturally, the other packs will conclude that the Crown killed Carver, thinking he'd feel more loyalty to other cats than wolves while they enacted their plans to take back what they think is rightfully theirs, which would be rule over the shifter population of Great Britain. Paranoia, of course, will keep the packs from contacting each other or calling for help from the continent.

 

Next will be the Heirs, with Gillian's being first and Llelwyn being last, again throwing suspicion onto someone else. At this point, the _Mort du Loup_ will swoop in, taking out the last of the packs while, most likely, staging the high profile kills as 'deranged fans' or 'anti-nationalists'. Bing, bang, boom, all of the shifters in Great Britain dead or one the run and they barely had to lift their fingers to have an excuse to do so. Wonderful. So how the hell do we find and stop them?”

 

“I believe I can help with that,” a soft American voice said from by the door. Before Moira turned to look, she watched as Chris's face paled rapidly while Stile's jaw dropped, a look of disbelieving shock coloring his features. Slowly she turned around, seeing the newcomer standing with Iliana and Harry at her back. Harry looked confused while Iliana merely looked resigned.

 

She was a pretty girl, with long, curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. Looking closely, Moira could see certain resemblances to Chris. A deep breath confirmed that the girl in front of her was, in fact, a shifter, a wereleopard to be exact. Apparently, pretending you were dead was not going out of fashion.

 

“Allison?” Came the quiet, desperate question from the screen behind them. She smiled sadly, walking forward into the room, completely ignoring the other occupants. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, where a choked-off sob came from. “Hello, daddy. Stiles,” she said, eyes constantly looking between their faces as her smile grew.

 

“How...” Stiles trailed off, unsure or unable to reconcile what he was seeing in front of him.

 

“The story of how I survived is also the story of how I can help,” she said, countenance abruptly changing from sad to serious. “For the past several months, we've been tailing the activities of the Mort du Loup. We've successfully infiltrated their organization and have been working tirelessly to sabotage and stop them from committing the atrocities they have been known to do. For the past year they've been quiet, planning only within the upper echelons of their society. It was only early this morning that our agent was included into the plans, now that they've started one of their biggest maneuvers in decades.”

 

“Okay, okay, wait a second. First of all, who are 'we'? Secondly, how can we trust you? You've been supposedly dead for the last how long and now you show up here, smelling like a leopard, and tell us you have a solution? Forgive me if I seem a little skeptical,” Moira said, hands on her hips as she confronted the girl. To her credit she didn't seem fazed at all, most likely expecting the questions.

 

“To answer your first question, 'we' is an organization founded about a hundred years before the Mort du Loup started terrorizing the continent. We were approached by an...entity, shall we say, who wanted the protection of all supernatural species, and thought that the more progressive members of the hunter community would be the best bet for that. We didn't have a name then, not until the MdL came to be known. Then, we adopted the name Sauveur du Loup, though we still advocate the protection of all innocent supernaturals.

 

Since then we've been helping many supes from the shadows, most never knowing they were in danger from the MdL in the first place. Secondly, Iliana here was able to infiltrate the society about 10 years ago. She'd been raised to believe in the SdL from both of her parents, who were secret members and infiltrators of the MdL as well. Theron Mortenson, her cousin, was the one who advocated her induction since she acted like she hated shifters with a burning passion, making her a top recruit from the hunter pool.

 

After the shock of finding out that my grandfather had been manipulating me for his own gain I changed our family motto, as you may know. This brought me to the attention of the SdL, who came to me in secret to recruit me. They thought that I was a perfect candidate to bring their existence to the light of the entire supernatural community as I, being an Argent who openly did not discriminate against supernaturals, was well known throughout the community and they would be more willing to hear us out if I was at the forefront. I was going to join for sure after I went to college, but the events surrounding the nogitsune and my 'death' pushed things forward.

 

That night I had a feeling that I may die, having noticed Lydia's subconscious behavior towards me. Resigned to my fate, I accepted my death as something that needed to happen to save my friends. However there was a woman, a powerful sorceress who'd been helping us for a while. When I died, she brought me back because she needed to 'maintain the Balance' which was disrupted after Peter Hale resurrected himself. There was a catch, though. The price of that magic was high, and when I came back, I wasn't human anymore. The SdL took me in and had one of their members, another wereleopard like myself, teach me not only control over my new abilities but also about their history and motives.

 

I was going to come back after I had learned control over myself, but then the MdL made a move in Montreal that showed just how vast their resources and influence spread. Instead of me coming to the light as the SdL spokesperson I had to remain in the shadows, approaching the packs slowly and anonymously. It was made easier by the fact that I was now a shifter and word has started to slowly spread about who we are and the fact that the MdL still exists is becoming known, but not too quickly as to cause a panic.

 

Our plans were sped up significantly when Iliana contacted our council, informing them that the high brass here were having secret meetings. We've been trying to counter their moves, but as I said before, we didn't have an in until this morning. We know exactly what they're going to do and when. We just need a plan.”

 

There was a long silence, everyone absorbing what Allison had just said. There was still heavy breathing from the speakers, but Argent seemed to have pulled himself together remarkably well.

 

“Okay. We're going to need all the intel you have on key players and places...”

 

_To face the blackened sky~_

 

Four hours later, the plan was set. Moira walked into the pub, hair up in a tight bun and business suit slightly rumpled. She slumped over the bar, taking off her jacket and glasses and pulling the pins out of her hair, shaking it out. She noted out of the corner of her eye that she'd caught the attention of her target, the weak chink in the MdL's armor.

 

Carson Steel was a normal looking guy, able to pass by anyone on the street without them remembering him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, an unremarkable face, and a crooked nose. The only parts of him that would inspire recognition were his muscular body and the scar that ran from his left eyebrow to right under his earlobe.

 

He also had a penchant for gambling, alcohol, and women and was apparently blind to the fact that it was a large weakness of his. Idiot. Moira was chosen because not many people knew what she looked like, and also because she was stunningly gorgeous. It should have been suspicious for as beautiful a woman as her to come to this dingy pub, but. Weakness.

 

He put a charming smile on his face, which admittedly did brighten him up a little, and slid over the one stool separating them. “What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Instantly, whatever charm he may have had with that smile disappeared at the awful pick-up line. Moira dutifully curled her lips into a coy smile, turning to lean against the bar and sip at her cheap drink.

 

“Just looking to unwind a little, I guess,” she said airily, fluttering her eye lashes once before turning back to her drink. He chuckled in what he thought was a husky manner, moving a hand to cover hers. “I know a better place than this we can go.” Internally, Moira rolled her eyes so hard, but on the outside she turned a sly smile onto him. “Please,” was all she said before he was tossing down money onto the counter and pulling her towards the door.

 

As soon as they were outside and walking around the corner, however, Moira pulled a syringe out of her purse and stuck it in his neck, depressing the plunger quickly.

  
“Nighty night,” she singsonged as he dropped like a bag of rocks. She swiftly hauled him into her arms and into the waiting van. “Any problems?” Uncle Dave asked as she took off the hidden camera and wire from under her shirt. “Seriously?” She asked, side-eyeing him. He raised his hands in surrender, a smirk curling around his lips as she rubbed hand-sanitizer practically up to her elbows, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

 

Twenty minutes later they reached the warehouse MI5 had provided for this very purpose. They were very good set designers, Moira thought as she deposited the unconscious hunter into the chair and strapped him in. Arrayed around the room were tables filled with ominous looking tools, from a rusty ice pick to what looked like a bone saw. Iliana stood by the door, arms crossed and a disgusted look on her face. Though Moira still didn't quite like the woman, she understood where the previous animosity had come from- the SdL had been working tirelessly for years to stop the MdL and all of a sudden, right when they had a good chance to dismantle the terrorist group, Moira shows up, guns blazing and having no idea what was going on. She shook the thought off, promising to deal with it later. They had more important things to deal with now.

 

Moira moved over to a dark corner to the left and behind Carson, still unconscious. She gave a slight nod at the hidden camera in the corner, and a light flashed in response. Iliana moved forward with purpose, picking up the smelling salts that would wake Carson up. She waved them under his nose, stepping back as he jerked up with a gasp, eyes spinning wildly around the room before finally settling on her.

 

“Oh thank God, Iliana. One of those beasts must've got the drop on me. We have to get out of here and tell Theron!” He said, struggling against the bonds that held him to the chair. Instead of saying anything, Iliana clenched her jaw and stepped back. Moira let out a low chuckle as she stepped into his peripheral vision, trailing a hand over the tools on the table beside her. His eyes swung to her, widening in fear and anger, darting back and forth between her and Iliana. Moira ignored him as she paused to caress the blade of a particularly wicked hunting knife before moving on.

 

She grabbed a chair from the corner, plopping it down in front of him with a loud clang that he flinched at. Sweat had started to pool at the base of his throat, heart jackrabbiting in his ribcage and chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. She daintily sank into the chair, fidgeting once to get comfortable before staring at him with a blank searching gaze. She remained like that, perfectly still while his eyes flickered from her to Iliana, still at her back.

 

“Iliana,” he started before he was cut off. “Carson Steel, 36, born in Lexington, Kentucky. Parents killed in an animal attack when you were 12 on a hunting trip. You were taken in by Kirk and Helsa Mortenson, who took you with them when they moved back to Norway and then to England in 1992. Brotherly relationship with Theron Mortenson, 38, whom you admire and look up to. Admitted early on to the Mort du Loup terrorist organization, who advocate the deaths of all shifters and those who support them or carry the gene. Did I miss anything?” Moira extolled in a bored tone of voice, looking at her fingernails as she did so.

 

Carson had grown paler and paler during her little speech, looking accusingly towards Iliana, but he seemed to swell with righteous fury when she said that last sentence.

 

“How dare you, filth, talk about something you know nothing about! The lowly beasts and their ilk should be eradicated, devil spawn as they are!” By this point, he was practically frothing at the mouth, chest heaving and muscles bulging in his attempt to presumably strangle her. “And how dare you, Iliana, consort with the very creatures you swore to destroy! Filthy dog whore, spreading your legs for the first animal to come panting after you! I always wondered why you hadn't given yourself to me before, when all this time you've been fucking a pack of flea-bitten-”

 

A resounding slap echoed across the room, leading into a stinging silence. Four horizontal slashes marked his cheek from the claws that had slid out from Moira's fingertips without her notice. She'd stood up at some point, eyes flaring a dangerously cold red as she stared down at him in quiet fury.

 

“You think you're so much better than us, when you talk about a human woman as if she's a piece of meat, like she's property to be won or conquered, like you deserve to have her just because you have a penis and she does not. You are completely at my mercy and you dare to spew such vile vitriol? Are you really so convinced of your superiority that even here, strapped down like a lamb for slaughter, you think yourself better?” Moira asked evenly, calmly, which seemed to leech his resolve from him as he sunk back into the chair. Just then, a piercing wail echoed through the room, followed by a high-pitched scream only seconds later. His eyes widened as they darted over to the door and then back to Moira, who had a satisfied look on her face.

 

“As you can see, Carson, I can call you Carson, right? As you can see, we have another compatriot of yours, a beautiful young thing named Adair. You know her, right? Blonde hair, blue eyes, about this tall?” She said, indicating with her hand a height a couple of inches taller than herself. His eyes widened in shock and horror. Adair Mortenson was Theron's younger sister, who according to Iliana had no idea what her brother and parents got up to. She was aware of the supernatural, yes, but Iliana had told them that she had a strong moral compass and the belief that only the guilty ones should be punished, not even with death unless necessary. The Mortenson's were making their move now because when Adair became the Matriarch, which would be soon, she would never allow this sort of thing to happen.

 

Iliana had also told them that Carson loved her, which was very much unrequited, so Carson protected her fiercely and loyally regardless of the fact that he didn't share the same beliefs about shifters as she did.

 

“You leave her alone! She doesn't know anything about this!” He shouted, eyes closing in anguish as another feminine scream echoed from another part of the warehouse. “I'll tell you anything you want, but she doesn't know anything! STOP HURTING HER!”

 

Moira smirked in victory, nodding at Iliana who walked to the door and made an obvious signal. The screams stopped, trailing off into loud sobbing. Of course, they didn't really have Adair. It was all from a recording, and the banging sounds were made by Ben and Tom, happily clanging things together and making noise.

 

It didn't take long for him to spill everything, from where their bases were to where Luke Windsor was being held. He did tell them that the other three liasons had been murdered, their bodies dropped into the Thames with heavy cinder blocks attached so they wouldn't wash up and be identified. When he stopped, breath heaving and tears mixing with sweat, the lights came up all the way and the door opened, admitting the team of specially trained MI5.

 

“Wh-what's this? Where's Adair?” He asked, looking tiredly between the agents and Moira.

“Oh, this? This is just the team of highly trained agents here to take you to a very remote prison for the rest of your life. And we never had or tortured Adair, or anyone. We're not savages,” Moira replied, devious smile on her face. “Thanks so much for the info, Carson! Maybe I'll come see you in, oh, 50 years or so.”

 

It was satisfying to hear the wordless sound of rage emit from the zealot as he was led away.

 

 

_You will see your beauty every moment that you rise~_

 

The actual take-down was far less thrilling than Moira thought it'd be.

 

The Mort du Loup's base of operations was, quite idiotically, the Mortenson's home. It was a sprawling structure on the outskirts of London, with many hidden rooms and passages not on the original schematics, but Iliana and Carson's intel was more than enough to navigate it safely.

 

That said, none of the shifters were allowed to enter the building as it was layered in traps that would prove fatal to any of them who entered. The agents were well protected with their body armor and helmets, and though wolfsbane and nightshade were deadly to humans as well, the emissaries of the Carlton and the Royal packs were on standby with remedies for everything they could possibly come up against.

 

The shifters were not just standing about doing nothing, though. They were stationed at the exits of the hidden passageways, there to subdue anyone who tried to escape. As Iliana and Carson had told them, there was a massive meeting going on tonight with everyone on the island in attendance, as well as some key figures from the mainland.

 

Moira, Ben and Tom watched from the bushes lining the road as the last of the cars parked. The occupants were all laughing and joking, in high spirits as they believed they had succeeded in the first part of their plan. As the door was closed behind them, a subsonic whistle echoed out, unable to be heard by humans but very clear to the shifters. The three slid into place, Ben and Tom on either side to box them in and Moira at the choke point, ready to swiftly take them out.

 

The bang of a flash grenade echoed through the night, confused and then angered yelling coming from the house. Gunfire pattered into the still winter air, and the sounds of running feet echoed in the sensitive ears of the shifters present. The door in front of them flew open, 6 people exiting in a somewhat cohesive unit. Only the one at the back had a gun, and by the time he'd raised it to fire it was already gone, clattering on the cobblestones 20 feet away. There was only a flurry of low snarls and the sounds of fists impacting flesh, and then unconscious bodies hitting the ground. Moira tossed zip ties to the other two and made quick work of restraining them and systematically searching them for weapons, which they tossed into a steadily growing pile.

 

Soon enough, the gunfire stopped and only the yelling remained, though this time it was the sound of the agents yelling for people to get on the ground and that they were under arrest. A squad of agents swept out of the door and took the zip-tied hunters into their custody, dragging them around the front where there were ambulances and police vehicles all with their lights on.

 

Only a few had been injured, mostly hunters but several MI5 as well. The injuries were nothing more than scrapes and bruises, though one agent had been grazed by a bullet and was currently being tended to by an EMS and Sorcha Hastings.

 

Off to one side Iliana was talking lowly with Adair, who suddenly broke down into tears and collapsed into her cousin's arms. Moira looked away; she didn't even want to imagine how the poor girl must feel, to know that her parents and brother were bigger monsters than the ones they hunted.

 

Moira turned instead to the line of people restrained in a line, some conscious, some not. She was scanning faces when she noticed something that chilled her to her bones.

 

“Iliana, where's Theron?”

 

Before the question was even fully out of her mouth the sharp rapport of gunfire sounded behind her. When she turned, everything seemed to be in slow motion- she saw the horrified look on her Uncle Dave's face, Ben turning white as a ghost with a spatter of red on his cheek, Tom lunging forward towards her in a panic. She saw the angry face of Theron, gun still raised and his look of satisfaction.

 

It took her a moment longer to feel the pain, like fire ants crawling under her skin from her back and spreading to her front. She looked down, noticed the slow spread of blood underneath her blue shirt, turning it a purplish-black that looked macabre to her.

 

A high-pitched wail broke out in the night, startling the frozen spectators into action. Moira collapsed to her knees, the cobblestone driveway getting larger in her vision as she fell forward. Suddenly, a swirl of black fabric flickered in front of her as strong, feminine hands grabbed her roughly under her arms. The action jolted her wound, causing her to cry out in agony and lift her eyes to see who it was. The last thing she saw before everything went black was a flash of red hair, pale skin and cold forest green eyes.

 


End file.
